UC-NRLF 


07M 


Pearle 


GIFT  OF 


CALIFORNIA 


AND 


OTHER  POEMS 


By 
MARY  PEARLE 


San  Francisco 

Press  of  The  James  H.   Barry  Co. 
1915 


THE  CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS 

Christmas  chimes  ring  out  with  gladness, 
Christmas  cheer  dispels  earth's  sadness, 
Christmas  hearts  send  forth  glad  greeting, 
Christmas  hands  clasp  warm  at  meeting. 

Happy   thoughts   in   all   minds   springing, 
Happy  voices  gaily  singing, 
Happy    smiles   on   beaming   faces, 
Happy   scenes   in  market   places. 

Jolly  firesides,   guileless   pleasures, 

Jolly  friendship,    token    treasures, 

Jolly  babies,    full    of    laughter, 

Jolly  times,   before   and  after. 

Santa   Claus   is   surely  coming, 
Santa  Claus  his   gay  song  humming, 
Santa   Claus  by   reindeer  borne, 
O'er  the  hills  on  Christmas  morn. 

Stockings  hung  in  countless  rows, 
Baby  stockings  out  at  toes; 
Restless  heads  keep,  all  the  night, 
Popping  up   from   pillows  white — 

Wondering  if  Santa   came; 
Had   the   reindeer  all  got   lame 
O'er   the   Rocky   Mountains   toiling 
Hard,  to  keep  the  toys  from  spoiling? 

Christmas    chimes    ring   out   the   story 
Of   the    King    of   grace    and    glory, 
Of  His  star  the  wise  men  guiding 
To  the  Babe  pure  and  confiding. 

Would  our  hearts  were  childlike  holy 
And  our  lives  more  meek  and  lowly; 
Full   of  tenderness   and   love 
Like  the  Christ  Child  from  above. 

Massassaga  Point. 

My  Dear  Mrs.  Pearle: — 

Verily  your  "Christmas  Chimes  ring  out  with  gladness," 
in  a  happy,  silvery  tone  and  pleasing  measure,  telling  the 
old,  old,  sweet  story.  The  story  I  will  reacf  .to-morrow. 

Wishing  you  and  your  dear  ones  many  happy  returns  of 
the  season,  I  am,  Y()Urs  yery  sincerely> 

December  23,. J^.  .    CALISTA   I.    CZARA. 


COPYRIGHT 

1915 
By    MARY    PEARLE 


326034 


CALIFORNIA. 

Often  in  the  quiet  gloaming 

Of  a  balmy  sunny  day, 
Viewing  the  majestic  beauty 

Of  the  green  hills  far  away, 
To  my  soul,  I  voice,  in  rapture 

"There  is  charm  everywhere. 
Truly  'tis  the  land  of  Promise 

California!  rich  and  fair." 

Meditating  'mid  thy  flowers, 

Smiling  to  the  suncrowned  sky 
Comes  a  flood  of  inspiration — 

Thoughts  of  things  that  cannot  die. 
O'er  my  soul  thy  spell  alluring 

Casts  the  magic  of  desire, 
For  I  am  part  of  California 

And  together  we  aspire. 

California!   'Neath  the  shadow 

Of  thy  mountains  green  and  gray, 
In  the  hazy  mellow  moonlight, 

Fancy  free,  I  often  stray 
To  a  cottage  in  the  highlands, 

Covered  with  the  frozen  snow, 
\Yhcre  we  dream  of  California — 

In  the  happy  long  ago. 

We,  the  children  of  the  ages, 
Schooled  in  European  lore, 

Turned  from  the  ancient  pages 
To  a  later,  fairer,  shore, 


California  and  Other  Poems 

Leaving  frost  and  snow  behind  us, 
Moving  to  a  hope  sublime, 

Risking  all  for  California 
And  its  fascinating  clime. 

Native  Sons!  and  Native  Daughters 

Of  the  glorious  Golden  West, 
Yours,    indeed    a   sacred    birthright 

To  the  fairest  land  and  best. 
But,  with  loyal,  loving  kindness 

Note  the  strangers  at  your  gate, 
Welcome  them  to  California 

Although  born,  alas !  too  late. 

California,  highly  favored 

Above  ancient  Greece  and  Rome, 
Open  wide  thy  golden  portals 

That  the  strangers  may  find  home. 
Give  the  Brotherhood  of  Nations 

Entertainment  for  the  night, 
When  the  World's  Exposition 

And  its  glory  loom  in  sight! 

California!    God's   own   country, 

Proudly  scorn  each  evil  thing, 
Let  the  light  of  Sinai's  mountain 

Guiding   rays   around   you   fling. 
Righteousness  exalts  thy  banners, 

Queen  of  every  other  state, 
Therefore  be  your  watchword  ever 

"The  good  alone  are  great." 


California  and  Other  Poems 


"BEAUTY  MADE  THE  WORLD." 

Emerson. 

This  world  is  beautiful  with  shine  and  shade 
E'en  though  its  roses  droop  and  fade, 

And  its  lilies  do  not  stay. 
There  is  freshness  on  the  summer  hills, 
A  thrill  of  rapture  in  the  rippling  rills 

\\'here  little  minnows  play. 

The  sea  is  fair  with  calm  and  billow 
Where  aching  heads  oft  find  a  pillow 

So  wonderfully  soft ; 
O !  give  me  a  nook  by  the  wild,  free  sea 
Where  the  white  foam  dashes  a  kiss  to  me 

As  the  sailors  go  aloft! 

And  the  woods!    O,  the  woods  are  fair  to  see, 
Where  the  wild  birds  chant  sweet  melody, 

Gay  songs  of  faith  and  love. 
O,  give  me  a  seat  'neath  the  forest  tree, 
With  my  dearest  friend  in  converse  with  me, 

And  the  soft  blue  clouds  above. 

They  tell  me  of  heavenly  lands  more  bright, 
Where  there  shall  never  more  be  night, 

And  suns  shall  never  set. 

Yet   methinks  I   should   miss  the  moonlight  soft 
And  the  gentle  touch  of  a  hand  that  oft 

My  own  in  the  pale  light  met. 


6  California  and  Other  Poems 

And  that  cottage  home  'neath  the  old  oak  tree, 
Pictured  so  plain  in  memory, 

My  fancy  still  enthralls. 
For  I  shall  never  on  this  earthly  plane 
Find  the  contentment  and  love  again 

I  found  within  its  walls. 

Blame  me  not,  if  I  call  earth  good 
Though  heaven  may  suit  a  sadder  mood, 

To-day  I  am  content 
To  bask  in  the  beauty  God  has  given, 
Until  in  the  better  land  of  heaven 

My  future  life  is  spent. 

And  oft  at  eve,  when  the  sun  is  low, 

I  look  toward  the  west,  where  the  sky,  aglow 

With  his  departing  kiss, 
Mirrors  that  Paradise  far  away, 
While  I  wonder  if  Celestial  day 

Can  be  more  fair  than  this. 


MEMORIAL  POEM. 

The  morn  has  dawned  upon  the  night  of  sorrow, 
For  which  we  prayed  a  little  while  ago; 

And  he  has  entered  on  that  bright  to-morrow, 
Triumphant  over  death  and  pain  and  woe. 

Nearer,  My  God,  to  Thee,  in  anguish 

He  prayed  in  agony  of  mortal  pain ; 
"Thy   will   be   done,"  although   the  body  languish, 

He  softly  murmured  o'er  and  o'er  again. 


California  and  Other  Poems  7 

He   was  a  hero.     For  his  country's  glory, 
He  risked  his  life,  when  in  his  youthful  prime; 

And  dark  the  blot  upon  that  country's  story, 
Left  by  the  dastardly  assassin's  crime. 

In  perfect  safety  oft  through  din  of  battle, 
He  moved,  while  bullets  flew  around  like  rain ; 

Bearing  dispatches  'neath  the  cannon's  rattle, 
To  his  commander,  o'er  beleaguered  plain. 

And  yet,  strange  fate !     At  zenith  of  his  power, 
Upon  the  day  named  for  him  at  the  feast ; 

He  fell   a  martyr,  in  the  festive  hour — 
The  nation's  ruler  and  the  people's  guest. 

Oh !  watchman,  tell  us  from  thy  clearer  vision, 
What  of  the  night?     Its  gloom  is  o'er  us  still; 

Is  there  no  message  from  the  land  Elysian, 
Urging  submission  to  Jehovah's  will? 

Must  anarchy  enthrall  our  souls  with  terror, 
In  a  land  redeemed  by  patriotic  blood? 

How  can  we  best  eradicate  all  error, 

And  become   strong  in   Christian  brotherhood? 

***** 

Oh,  weary  watchman,  on  the  walls  of  Zion  ; 

Proclaim  the  Gospel  of  a  purer  creed ; 
With  God's  good  laws  for  nations  to  rely  on — 

There  is  no  room  for  anarchy  or  greed. 

"Thy  will  be  done,"  above  earth's  dread  commotion, 
"Xearer,  my  God,  to  Thee,"  at  any  cost; 

Till  in  the  calm  of  the  eternal  ocean, 
The  tears  of  time  shall  be  forever  lost. 


California  and  Other  Poems 


THE  SONG. 

Softly  and  sweetly  each  glad  note 

Fell  on  my  raptured  ear, 
As  minor  chords  their  burdens  float 

Upon   the    morning  air. 
I   stood  and  listened.     Silent  tears 

Welled  up  into  my  eyes ; 
And  for  the  moment  life  appears 

A  breath  of  Paradise. 

Louder  still  the  notes  flow  on, 

Like    triumph   over   pain. 
My   soul   soars   on   the   wings   of   song 

Up   to  a   higher  plain. 
The   anguish  of  my  heart  is   healed, 

The   wrongs   of   time   forgot. 
The    word    unkind    forever   sealed 

Upon    that    hallowed    spot. 

I  looked  around.     Not  far  or  high 

The   singer  and  his  art. 
Within   a   thicket   I   espy 

The   lute   that   touched    my   heart. 
A   wounded  lark,   within   the  brake 

Imprisoned  and  in  pain, 
Sang  on  through  bitterest  care  and  ache 

This  beautiful  refrain : 

"Hope  on !  hope  on  !  relief  is  near. 

Sing  on !   the   end   is   nigh. 
Love  on !  for  love  casts  out  the  fear 

That  cowards  have  to  die ! 


California  and  Other  Poems 

Work  on !    The  morn   is  bright  and   fair 

And   life   is   sweet  at   noon. 
But   night   is  ever  drawing  near 

And  darkness  comes  too  soon." 


IN    MEMORIAM. 
F.  M.  Milne— April   21,   1910. 

Calmly   she   sleeps   in   the   arms  eternal, 
After  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day. 

Breathing  the  odor  of  flowers  ever  vernal 
In    the    beautiful    city   over    the    way. 

She  wrote  of  sweet  rest  and  of  heavenly  beauty ; 

She  told  us  of  God's  tender  pity  and  care. 
Her   incentive   to  faithful   performance  of  duty 

Was   faith   in   the   beautiful   home  over   there. 

Her  smile  was  a  reflex  of  that   inward   glory; 

It  beamed  like  the  sun  on  the  rich  and  the  poor. 
Her  life  illustrated  the  sweet,  tender  story 

Of  hope  and  redemption   and  pardon  secure. 

How  calmly  she  sleeps  'mid  the  lilies  and  roses, 
Embalmed  in  the  shrine  of  our  tenderest  love, 

Saying  from   the   glory  in  which   she   reposes, 
"Set  your  affections  upon  things  above." 

Sadly  and  sorely  our  city  will  miss  her 
Culture,   her    talent,    her   influence    sweet, 

'Twas  the  angel  of  life  and  of  love  that  did  kiss  her 
And  woo  her  away  to  ideals  more  sweet. 


io  California  and  Other  Poems 


INDEPENDENCE  DAY,  1913. 

The  years  roll  on :  time's  chariot  dashing 

To  earth  the  noble  and   the  good, 
While  from   Eternity   this  truth  is  flashing: 

Death  cannot  sever  bonds  of  brotherhood 

And   Freedom's   laws   stand   written   on   Creation, 
In  language  plain  that  all  may  understand 

The  crowning  glory  of  this  favored  nation, 
Where  Independence  waves  its  banner  grand, 

Beneath  which  the  stranger  of  every  nation 
Finds  hearty  welcome,  shelter  and  employ; 

No  matter  what  his  color,  creed,  or  station, 
America  would  crown  his  life  with  joy. 

And  molding  it  to  the  culture  of  the  ages, 
Leaving  the  blinding  desert  sands  behind, 

Opening  inspiration's  golden  pages 

To  educate  the  slave  idea  from  the  mind. 

Adopting  him  into  a  kingdom  newly  born 
Where  every  man  may  rule  by  right  divine, 

Conquering  wrong  and  laughing  graft  to  scorn, 

Marching  toward   Progress   along  straighter  lines. 

Great  Father  of  the  universe,  our  praises 
Ascend  to-day  for  mercies  of  the  past; 

Preserve  to  us  the  virtue  that  thus  raises, 
Our  Nation  to  honors  that  forever  last. 


California  and  Other  Poems  n 


A  MUTE  APPEAL. 

In  mute  appeal  their  unsealed  eyes  look  upward 

Into  the  azure  that  obscures  God's  throne; 
"\\  c  fought  for  liberty,  fought  nobly  and  fell  bravely 

Defending  what  thou  gavest  us  to  own. 
Appealing  to  the  clemency  of  nations, 

\Ve  fought  like  heroes,  yet  like  dogs  we  lie 
Tiiburied.     How  invincible  the  armor 

Death's  angel  folds  around  the  brave  who  die." 

"Let  the  dead  bury  their  dead,"  though  sin  and  sor 
row 

Impede  discipleship  with  Christ,  the  good ; 
Retributive  justice  on  the  dawning  morrow 

Demands  respect  for  human  brotherhood. 
"Blest  are  the  Merciful,"  thus  taught  the  Master, 

In  that  immortal   Sermon  on  the  Mount, 
Oh,   Kitchener,   by   whatever   creeds   you    name   Him, 

You  hold  His  precepts  of  but  small  account. 

Hearken,  the  nations  cry,  "For  shame,  Old  England ; 

Call  off  thy  sleuth-hounds  and  thy  cruel   war, 
Or  men  will  say,  'The  Lord  of  Hosts  is  sleeping, 

Thus  to  permit  thy  cruelties  so  far/ 
Thou   art  behind   the   Turk  in  tender   mercy, 

I'.chind  the  savage  in  thy  thirst  for  blood, 
May  God  defend  the  weak  and  the  oppressed 

From  English  mammon.     Israel's  God  is  good." 


12  California  and  Other  Poems 

When   Father  Time   records   within   his   pages 

The  thrilling  story  of  the  Transvaal  war, 
To  echo  down  the  corridors  of  ages, 

Denouncing  England  as  a  fallen  star; 
Inscribed  in  blood  upon  the  hearts  of  nations 

Shall  live  those  words  by  cruel  Kitchener  said : 
"Not  one   moment,"  when  the   Boers   entreated 

A  little  time  to  bury  their   brave   dead. 

And  Ireland,  too,  in  scorn  shall  disclaim  him, 

No  son  of  Erin  could  have  stooped  so  low 
As    to    forget    the    etiquette   of   nations, 

Denying  burial  to  a  fallen  foe. 
God's  Universe  is  looking  on  in  wonder, 

To  see  the  Boers  acquit  themselves  like  men ; 
As  Samson,  they  shall  rend  their  cords  asunder, 

In  life  or  death  they  shall   be  free  again. 


ONE   LITTLE  WORD. 

Leave  it  unsaid,  if  hate  inspire 
Thy  mood,  to  set  thy  tongue  on  fire. 
Thou  art  not  sane,  when  anger  rules 
It  dwelleth  in  the  breast  of  fools. 

One  little  word  in  anger  spoken 
Has  many  a  tender  heartstring  broken. 
The  deed  or  word  we  misconstrue 
May  have  been  pure  as  morning  dew. 


California  and  Other  Poems  13 

'Tis  always  best,  to  give  thy  friend 
A  chance,  the  little  breach  to  mend, 
For  friendship  is  a  rosebud  sweet 
You   cannot   trample   under   feet. 

lint  place  within  your  choicest  vase 
To  listen  to  your  softest  phrase ; 
Till  it  expands  into  full  flower 
And  by  its  love  proclaim  its  power. 

c 

For  love  the  universe  controls, 
And  calms  the  wrath  of  human   souls. 
Saying  "peace,  be  still,"  athwart  the  waves 
That  roll  above  unnumbered  graves. 

Life  is  so  short ;  the  end  so  near. 
The  calm,  dead  face  that  once  was  dear 
Answers  not  back  one  little  word, 
Proclaim  a  truce  and  sheathe  thy  sword. 

For  if,  indeed,  the  end  had  come 
And  thy  dear  friend  had  journeyed  home, 
That  harsh  word  would  remain  unsaid, 
And  loving  words  be  framed  instead. 


14  California  and  Other  Poems 


LOVE  SEEKETH  NOT  ITS  OWN. 

The  train  slowed  up,  at  Castlebar 

I   heard   the   "all   aboard!" 
But  there  remained  one  passenger 

Unmindful  of  the  word. 
A  maiden,  young  and  beautiful 

As  Erin's  daughters,   proud, 
Stood  with  her  arms  circling 

Her  mother,  wailing  loud. 

"Dieu  lin !    Dieu  lin  a  lanna 

Why  do  you  go  away 
Till  ye  see  yer  poor  old  mother 

Laid  in  the  church  yard  clay?" 
At  last,  with  haste   she  pressed 

Into  the  daughter's  hand, 
A  little  piece  of  shining  gold, 

With  heroism  grand. 

And  when,  at  length  the  weeping  maid 

Could   tear   herself  apart, 
With  one  loud  sob  she  took  her  seat 

Lonely  and  sore  at  heart. 
Sobbing,  aloud,  "Ach,  mother 

Norah  will  come  again 
An'  take  you  to  America, 

An'  comfort  all  yer  pain." 

She  paused  and  looked  up  shyly 

As  we  drew  near  Athlone, 
And  seemed  at  last  to  realize 

That  she  was  not  alone. 


California  and  Other  Poems 

I,  too,  she  saw,  was  weeping, 

For  sympathy  is  kind,   ' 
And  had  I  not  that  morning 

Left  loving  ones  behind? 

She  came,  and  sat  beside  me. 

I  took  her  hand  in  mine ; 
For  one  small  touch  of  nature 

Breaks  the  strong  social  line. 
"And  Xorah  you  are  going 

To  leave  the  dear  old  sod. 
My  little  sister,  do  you  go 

In   company  with  God?" 

She  gazed  at  me,  as  gentle  deer, 

When  all  the  strife  is  o'er 
And  the  sacrifice  completed 

To  be  recalled  no  more. 
Then  softly,  with  the  accent 

Of   Erin's   toiling  poor, 
She  smiled  a  rainbow  smile 

And   said  "I'll   trust  in   God   for   sure." 

"But  ochone  alannah ! 

My  mother  ochone  gave  me  all 
The  bit  of  money  that  she  had 

To  buy  things  in  the  Fall. 
An',  now  ye  know  I'm  goin' 

To  where  there's  bread,  galore, 
Xow   won't   you   take   an'   send   her   back 

This  piece  of  gold,  Asthore? 


16  California  and  Other  Poems 

"You'll  stop  in  Dublin  city. 

"Tis  an  easy  thing  to  do. 
Just  put  it  in  a  letter, 

An'  write  a  line  or  two 
To  say  how  Norah  couldn't 

Take  her  little  bit  of  gold 
To  where  there  is  great  plenty 

Of  everything,  I'm  told." 

I  could  not  take  the  money, 

But  I  wrote  a  letter  kind, 
To  the  address  she  gave  me 

Her  mother's  home  to  find, 
And  often  since,  when  selfishness 

Obstructs  the  King's  high  road 
I   think   of  little   Norah 

And  her  faith  in  man  and  God. 


WASHINGTON'S    DAY. 

Ring  out !  ring  gladly  Liberty  Bell, 
And  loudly  to  the  Nation  tell 

The  story  of  to-day ; 
That   Washington   may   honored   be, 
Who  for  perpetual  liberty 

So  bravely  cleared  the  way. 

Ring  out   proudly  old   Liberty  Bell; 
From  shore  to  shore  let  glad  tones  swell 
In  praise  of  dauntless  truth ; 


California  and  Other  Poems  17 

For   Washington   by  light   Divine. 
'Twixt  vice  and  virtue  drew  the  line 
To   shield  the  Nation's  youth. 

Ring  out  boldly  Liberty  Bell, 
And  ask  the  people  is  it  well 

To  yield  on  every  hand 
A  little  here  and  a  little  there, 
Of  principles  he  bought  so  dear 

First  ruler  of  the  land? 

Ring  out !  ring  out  a  merry  peal 
That  patriotic  men  may  feel 

How  wrong  it   is  to  sleep 
While  wolves  invade  the  pasture  fold 
And  of  the  little  lambs  take  hold 

While  they  no  vigil  keep. 

Ring  out  glad  bells!  ring  clear  and  strong 
That  every  foe  who  means  us  wrong 

May  timely  warning  take ; 
Washington's  memory  cannot  die, 
His  country's  flag  still  waves  on  high, 

The  brave  are  wide  awake. 

Oh !  may  the  heroes'  mantle  fall 
Upon  his  children,  one  and  all, 

Until  our  land  is  free 
From  every  vile  oppressive  foe 
That  would  our  liberty  lay  low 

And  spoil  our  fair  country. 


i8  California  and  Other  Poems 


THE  GOLDEN  ROD. 

O,  Golden  Rod !  wild  Golden  Rod, 

That   roams    on   dale   and   down ; 
Unused  to  rules  of  fashion, 

Untaught  in  laws  of  town. 
Do  you  know  how  much  I  love  you, 

In  your  beauty  wild  and  free? 
Or  do  you  smile  on  everyone, 

As  you  have  smiled  on  me? 

O,    Golden    Rod!    sweet    Golden    Rod! 

Pray  tell  me  if  you  care; 
That   you    hold    my   heart   entangled, 

Within  your  golden  hair? 
Disown   your   low-born   kindred, 

And  be  my  very  own, 
And  reign  in  royal  splendor, 

Upon  a  nation's  throne. 

Then,  proudly  answered  Golden   Rod : 

"Sir    Knight,   I    cannot   go, 
My  mission  is  God-given, 

For  I  am  His,  you   know. 
He  placed  me  by  the  wayside, 

To  smile  upon  the  poor, 
And  help  the  heavy-laden  rich, 

Life's  burden   to   endure. 

"I  go  into  the  sanctuary, 

In  my  quiet,  simple  dress; 
Where  rich   and   poor   behold   me 

With  gracious  tenderness. 


California  and  Other  Poems  19 

I  tell  them  the  sweet  story 

That  never  can  grow  stale ; 
About  the  Rose  of  Sharon, 

And  Lily  of  the  Vale. 

"I  cannot  be  exclusive, 

I  want  to  live  for  all ; 
And  pomp  of  courts  might  lure  me 

From  innocence  to  fall. 
And  these  would  sorely  miss  me — 

My  neighbors,   kind  and   true; 
The  poor  have  got  so  little, 

They  make  the  more  ado. 

"And  one,  dear,  sturdy  Scotchman, 

Who  lives  across  the  way; 
For  me  has  pleasant  greeting, 

And  tender  words  to  say. 
Though  roughly  dressed,  in   homespun, 

His  heart  is  true  as  steel, 
And  well  I  know  he  loves  me, 

And  love  can  all  wounds  heal. 

"Sir  Knight,  a  statelier  flower, 

Best  suits  your  halls  of  pride; 
A  daughter  of  the  people, 

Should  with  her  own  abide; 
Since,   'tis  not  wealth  or  splendor, 

That  satisfy  the  heart; 
We  can  exalt  each  station, 

By  acting  well  our  part." 


20  California  and  Other  Poems 


ERIE  CENTENNIAL  POEM. 

Fair  city  by  the  waters, 

Accept  the  homage  due 
Thee  from  thy  sons  and  daughters, 

Who,  with  devotion  true, 
Would  celebrate  with  gladness 

Thy  proud  centennial  day, 
Dispelling  gloom  and  sadness 

From  sweet  Lake  Erie  Bay. 

Green  city  by  the  waters, 

Thou  art  a  queen  by  right, 
In  whom  thy  loyal  subjects 

Take  comfort  and  delight; 
God  prosper  thee  forever, 

Dear  city  by  the  bay, 
And  may  the  all-wise  Giver 

Be  bountiful  to-day, 

And  smile  with  benediction 

Upon  thy  jewels  fine, 
'Mid  which  thy  happy  children 

Pre-eminently  shine, 
Bright  gems  within  thy  coronet 

Of  unsurpassing  worth, 
While  joyfully  they  hail   thee, 

The  city  of  their  birth. 

Till  thy  churches  gleam  like  pearls 

Upon  the  classic  head, 
And  from  the  big  red  schoolhous^ 

Our  country's  colors  spread, 


California  and  Other  Poems  21 

Proclaiming  to  the  nations 

That  Erie  stands  for  right, 
And  wisely  guards  her  birthright 

Of  jewels  rich  and   bright. 

\Yithin  thy  gates,  grand  city, 

The  stranger  finds  employ, 
And  he  who  craved  for  pity 

Is  crowned  with  hope  and  joy. 
Shine  on !  shine  on,  Gem  City ! 

To-day  let  there  be  light 
Reflected  from  one  hundred  lamps 

Replenished,  trimmed  and  bright, 

That  from  each  lordly  spire 

And   institution  grand, 
In  characters  of  fire 

Our  country's  watchwords  stand ; 
Till  virtue  and  equality 

Diffuse  our  spirits  through, 
And   God's  own  love  presides  above 

The  things  we  say  and  do. 

For  righteousness   exalteth 

Unto  the  hills  of  God, 
The  city  of  our  fathers 

Who  sleep  beneath  the  sod. 
God   grant  us  Christian  brotherhood 

On  this  centennial  day, 
And  may  the  light  of  life  illume 

Our  city  by  the  bay. 


22  California  and  Other  Poems 


JUNE. 

June  is  the  month  of  roses, 

The  fairest  of  the  year, 
Its  luring  light  reposes 

On  beauty  everywhere; 
Beside  the  hedge  rows  peeping 

Wild  flowers  glance  around 
A  timid  vigil  keeping, 

Upon   the   garden   ground. 

Like  outcasts,  they  aspire 

To  elegance  and  grace. 
If  God  had  placed  them  higher 

And  given  them   the  place 
Of  roses  in  the  garden, 

Or  lilies  in  the  field, 
They  would  delight  their  warden 

By  beauty  and  rich  yield. 

Dear  little  wayside  flower, 

Dear  soul  on  the  low  grade, 
Not  yours  constructive  power : 

You  are  what  you  are  made, 
And  each  within  its  place  is  best, 

For  beauty  and  for  worth. 
Be  just,  and  leave  to  God  the  rest, 

The  Author  of  your  birth. 

And  being  just  as  true  and  good, 

Your  beauty  is  divine; 
You  are  of  the  grand  brotherhood 

That  everywhere  must  shine. 


California  and  Other  Poems  23 

The  violet  by  the  wayside 

Is  sister  to  the  rose, 
Although  its  modesty  doth  hide 

What  its  perfumes  disclose. 

Oh !  Month  of  rose  and  violet 

Oh !  Month  of  beauty  rare, 
Of  fairy  gems  in  emerald  set — 

Wide  scattered  everywhere. 
Teach  us  contentment  in  our  lot 

Where'er  that  lot  may  be, 
And  grant  the  grace  that  fadeth  not 

Through  all  Eternity. 


LINES  ON  LOUGH  MASK,  IRELAND. 

Lough  Mask,  thy  beauties  free  and  wild 
Have  soothed  my  soul  and  oft  beguiled 

My  thoughts  from  earthly  care. 
I  love  the  rocks  thy  wavelets  kiss, 
Thy  solitude  is  sweet.  'Twere  bliss 

To  dwell  forever  here. 

I  love  to  wander  on   thy  shore. 
Thy  smiling  calm,  thy  frowning  roar, 

Alternately  I've  seen. 
Have  marked  thy  growing  rage  expand 
Till  shook  with  fear  the  trees  that  stand 

Around,  like  slaves,  I  ween. 


24  California  and  Other  Poems 

And  must  I  leave  thee,  lovely  spot? 
And  shall  thy  beauties  be  forgot? 

Shall  no  admiring  eye 
Record  thy  charms  in  glowing  rhyme 
Or  paint   thy  loveliness   sublime, — 

Thy  modest  grace  descry? 

Strangers  may  wander  on  thy  shore, 
Exclaim,  "How  lovely,"  nothing  more, 

And  wander  gayly  on ; 
While  the  loved  ones  I  leave  behind 
To  thee  shall  off  recall  my  mind 

When  I  am  sad  and  lone. 

Farewell !   farewell,   enchanted   spot, 
Adieu  loved  ones,  since  'tis  my  lot 

To  tread  life's  shady  side; 
I'll  bear  this  picture  true  and  kind 
Of  dearest  friends  I  leave  behind, 

By  Lough  Mask's  changing  tide. 

And  hope  when  time   shall   be   no   more 
Upon  a  brighter,  happier  shore 

My  absent  ones  and  I, 
May  meet,  in  happiness  again, 
And  never  feel  the  parting  pain, 

Where  God  all  tears  doth  dry. 

And,  maybe,  from  that  heaven  afar 
Beyond  the  brightest,  highest  star 

We  may  look  down  from  bliss, 
Upon  Lough  Mask's  wild  beauties  fair 
Exclaiming  fondly,  "not  e'en  here, 

Is  fairer  scene   than   this." 


California  and  Other  Poems  25 


DECORATION  DAY. 

Sweet  eyes,  that  look  no  more  in  mine, 
To-day,  behold  the  Face  Divine, 

And  intercede  for  me; 
That  I  may  too  thy  calm  rest  share, 
Devoid  of  every  earthly  care, 
That  troubles  transient-dwellers  here, 

\\  ith  deep  anxiety. 

Sweet  lips,  forever  sealed  as  though 
To  guard  the  secrets  none  may  know, 

I   would  breast  Jordan's  wave 
To  kiss  them,  only  once  again, 
Beyond  this  atmosphere   of  pain, 
Where  Love  and  Loyalty  are  vain 

To  battle  with  the  grave. 

Dear  folded  hands,  so  lily  white, 

That  wrought  for  me  some  new  delight 

Each  day  throughout  the  year. 
How  much   I   miss  their  touches  kind, 
That   did   my   wounded   spirit   bind, 
And  for  my  grief  sweet  solace  find 

And  gently  dry  each   tear. 

Dear  light  of  life,  forever  fled, 

How  can  I  live  since  thou  art  dead, 

My   precious   one,  so  wise? 
To-day  I  bow  my  head,  and  think 
I  see  beyond  the  grave's  sad  brink 
A  gleam  of  Love's  unbroken  link, 

Anchored  in  Paradise, 


26  California  and  Other  Poems 

And  formed  of  flowers  pure  and  white 
That  angels  move  on  with  delight, 

Moving  their   earthward   way. 
My  darling,  can  you  not  come  too, 
And  touch  me,  as  you  used  to  do, 
Leading  me  gently  on  with  you 

Into  the  Light  of  Day? 


EQUAL  RIGHTS. 

Go  out  to  the  highways  and  gather  them  in, 
Frail   children  of  sorrow,  of  shame  and  of  sin, 
They  are  easily  found  in  the  slums  of  the  town — 
Go  out ;  it  is  easy  to  run  the  poor  down. 

Build  them  places  of  refuge,  but  never  a  home, 
They  have  left  that  behind  them  whatever  may  come. 
Left  father  and  mother,  left  sister  and  friend 
For  some  black-hearted  villain  who  swore  to  defend. 

He  led  them  astray  in  their  beauty  and  bloom, 
Till  the   wages  of  sin   paved  the  road   to  the  tomb ; 
Can  men  stoop  to  this  who  have  mothers  and  wives, 
And  sisters   all   leading  respectable  lives? 

Go,  first,  where  society  glitters  and  glares — 

To  our  churches   and   club   rooms,   our   markets   and 

fairs, 

Seek  out  the  vile  monsters,  tear  off  their  disguise, 
And  teach  our  maidens  the  way  to  be  wise 


California  and  Other  Poems  27 

Reform  the  homes,  make  them  decent  and  clean ; 
Admonish  all  parents  to  slum  what  is  mean, 
Let  landlords  who  thrive  upon  shame  and   disgrace, 
Go  kneel  in  the  dust  and  in  fear  hide  each  face. 


Away  with  your  houses  of  refuge  from  sin ! 
Let  the  light  of  God's  Gospel,  with  healing  pour  in, 
To  show  the  oppressors  of  those  who  are  poor, 
The  wrongs  that  their  victims  must  often   endure. 

Let  the  children  of  sorrow,  of  want  and  of  care, 

Enjoy  the  bright  world,  created  so  fair; 

God's  merciful  love  is  a  fathomless  store, 

He  pardons  transgression ;  but  "Go  sin  no  more." 

Of  if  you  must  gather  the  vile  in  one  den, 
Begin  with  society  women  and  men ; 
Weed  out  the  vile  vipers  that  desecrate  home, 
And   pity  poor  maidens   hired  on   to  their   doom. 

Let  men  to  God's  altar  lead  beauty  and  youth, 
To  build  happy  homes  on  the  framework  of  truth, 
That  our  sons  and  our  daughters  like  cedars  may 

grow ; 
For  a  nation  must  reap  as  a  nation  doth  sow. 

Tis  the  union  of  honesty,  purity,  worth, 

That  form  the  fairest  ideals  on  earth, 

And  since  love  is  cement  to  bind  all  into  one, 

Let  us  live  in  God's  light  and  be  pure  as  the  sun. 


28  California  and  Other  Poems 


"THE  TIME  OF  THE  SINGING  OF  THE  BIRDS 
IS  COME," 

To-day  I  heard  a  robin  sing 

A  song  of  welcome  to  the  spring 

That  made  me  glad. 

Past  were  the  winter's  cold  and  gloom ; 
The  stone  was  rolled  back  from  the  tomb 

Where  I  knelt  sad. 

Pale  flowerets  smiling  at  my  feet 
Spoke  to  me  low,  in  accents  sweet — 

"We  bide  our  day. 

Some  brightness  cheers  the  lot  of  all, 
When  He  who  marks  the  sparrow's  fall 

Smiles  care  away." 

The  peach-tree  basking  in  fair  noon 
Lisped  timidly,  "Trust  not  too  soon, 

For  hope  deferred 

P>rings  blighting  anguish  when  in  vain 
We  writhe  in  misery  and  pain — • 

Our  prayer  unheard." 

Yet  still,  the  robin  sang  a  gay, 
Melodious  song,  across  the  way, 

So  clear  and  sweet  : 

"Hope  on !  hope  on !"  it  seemed  to  plead ; 
"Fear  not  while  Providence  doth  lead 

Homeward  thy  feet." 


California  and  Other  Poems  29 

"Ah  me!"  I  thought,  "could  mortals   wait 
In  patient  hope  at  mercy's  gate, 

How  rich  the  boon — 
Awaiting  all  in  God's  good  time 
When  dawns  eternal  spring  sublime 

O'er  sorrows  flown." 

Then  my  glad  heart  sent  forth  this  cry, 
"Lord,  let  thy  love  in  me  not  die 

In  time's  dread  chill ; 
But  still  attune  my  soul  to  praise 
Thy  name  through  bright  or  gloomy  days, 

For  good  and  ill." 


WAR— 1915. 

"The  war  is  on,"  the  people  say- 
To  think  it  comes  in  our  day! 

To  make  such  mighty  rattle. 
If  I  were  only  twenty-one 
You  bet  I'd  bear  a  sword  and  gun 

Into  the  thick  of  battle ! 

1'ut  mother,  she  has  begged  me  so; 
I   cannot  break  her  heart  and  go, 

Although  Mars  keeps  on  calling: 
"Come,   be   a   soldier  brave   and    true, 
Your  country's  honor  calls  for  you 

Though  mother's  tears  are  falling." 


30  California  and  Other  Poems 

My  father  spoke  to  this  effect: 
"You  cannot  your  own  course  elect, 

And  war  is  so  uncertain ! 
I  fought  the  Spanish  war,  you  know, 
And  understand  how  matters  go, 

Behind   the   army   curtain. 

"Now,  hear  from  Dad  a  thing  or  two: 
The  Mexicans  don't  bother  you, 

If  you  let  them  alone. 
We  robbed  them  of  their  native  land 
And  made  them  feel  our  heavy  hand, 

And  War  makes  poor  atone. 

"Poor,  starved,  half-naked  and  oppressed, 
Their  wrongs  should,  rather,  be  redressed 

Than  aggravated  still; 
What  can  the  slave  of  Power  do 
Hear  and  obey  the  favored  few 

Or  die,  just  as  they  will! 

"My  son,  war  is  a  fearful  thing; 
'Tis  death  and  hell  upon  the  wing, 

Pestilence  in  the  wake. 
How  small  a  matter  brings  it  on ! 
'Salute  the  flag/  it  must  be  done, 

'Tis  war  and  no  mistake. 

"  'Salute  the  Cross.'    Let  all  bow  down. 
The  Prince  of  Peace  claims  first  renown, 

Let  little  insults  go. 
The  Stars  and  Stripes  can  well  afford 
To  yield  to  Christ,  risen  Lord, 

Till  peace  and  plenty  flow." 


California  and  Other  Poems  31 


CLOTILDE'S   CHRISTMAS 

A    LEGEND    OF    RUSSIA 

It  was  Christmas  in  Odessa, 

With  its  glitter  and  its  glare. 
There  were  sounds  of  joyous  greetings 

Borne  on  the  frosty  air. 
Wealthy  homes  ablaze  with  splendor, 

Hung  green  garlands  o'er  the  door ; 
And  the  echoes  of  the  season 

Reached  the  hovels  of  the  poor. 

In  a  dreary  little  cabin, 

Where  the  rush  light  burned  low 
On  a  rickety  old  table, 

Clotilde  Lyngolff  sat  to  sew. 
O'er  the  table  hung  a  picture — 

Christ  Child,  manger,  ox  and  stall — 
Before  which  the  maiden's  brother 

Prayed,  "Our  Father  bless  us  all." 

"Good-night,  sister,  angels  guard  thee," 

And  he  kissed  her  pallid  brow. 
"Put  away  that  weary  sewing — 

It  is  almost  morning  now." 
But  he  knew  not.  idle  dreamer, 

As  he  sought  his  little  bed, 
That  the  garment  must  be  finished, 

To  procure  him  daily  bread. 


32  California  and  Other  Poems 

When  alone,  Clotilde  looked  upward 

To  the  picture  on  the  wall; 
Sacred  picture,  with  a  legend, 

She  endeavored  to  recall. 
Long  she  pondered,  till  the  Christ  Child 

Radiant,  wondrous  to  behold, 
Stood  erect  and  pointed  downward 

To  a  glittering  heap  of  gold. 

When  the  morning  shadows  flitted 

O'er  the  poor  care-worn  face, 
They  were  very  loth  to  linger 

In  so  desolate  a  place ; 
They  would  wake  the  Christmas  morning 

In  gay  halls  of  pomp  and  pride, 
And  in  gloom  and  desolation, 

Leave  the  poor  for  whom  Christ  died. 

"Wake  up,   sister,   it   is  morning! 

Hark!  the  Christmas  bells  ring  clear! 
I  will  wear  my  sealskin  turban, 

Father's  gift  to  me  last  year. 
We  will  walk  to  church  together 

In  the  blessed  morning  light." 
Peter  Lyngolff  shuddering  started, 

Was  it  Death  that  met  his  sight? 

Then  a  sudden  frenzy  seized  him 
And  he  cried,  "O  Christ  our  King, 

Why  allow  the  good  and  faithful 
To  endure  such  suffering? 


California  and  Other  Poems  33 

Father  exiled  in  Siberia, 

Mother  dead  from  want  and  woe, 

Clotilde  starved — my  angel  sister — 
And   I— whither  shall  I  go?" 

Here  he  dashed  the  sacred  picture 

Down  upon  the  cabin  floor, 
And  the  noise  awoke  the  maiden, 

To  behold  its  golden  store 
Scattered  round,  with  lavish  bounty 

Even  to  her  very  feet, 
While  the  boy,  o'ercome  with  wonder, 

Sank  into  the  nearest  seat. 

For  a  secret  panel  opened 

That  had  hitherto  been  barred. 
Not  a  bit  of  glass  was  broken, 

Not  a  line  of  beauty  marred. 
Search  revealed  a  faded  paper 

Very  difficult  to  read : 
"For  the  heirs  of  Jago  Lyngolff 

In  their  hour  of  sorest  need." 

"It  is   Christmas  morning,   sister," 

Peter  said  with  tearful  eyes; 
"Grandfather  now  up  in  heaven 

Planned  for  us  this  great  surprise. 
Let  us  keep  the  feast,  with  gladness, 

While  the  yule  log  burns  bright, 
And  replace  the  sacred  picture 

Of  the  Christ,  who  reigns  by  right." 


34  California  and  Other  Poems 


PARNELL. 

A  gloomy  cloud  has  settled 

Over  sunny  Avondale, 
For  the  honest  peasants  mourn 

O'er  the  unexpected  tale: 
"Dieu   lin !    Dieu   lin,   Mavourneen !" 

They  wail  in  accents  low, 
While  down  wan  cheeks,  in  torrents, 

The  tears  of  anguish  flow. 

Wailing  and  lamentation 

Prevail  on  every  hand, 
For  the  greatest  leader  ever  known 

To  fated  Ireland. 
Her  uncrowned  king  is  dead — 

Unconscious  of  her  cause, 
Who  spent  himself  and  all  he  owned 

To  frame  her  better  laws. 

"A  Wirah   stroua,  Mavourneen!" 

They  wail  in  bitter  grief. 
The  loyal  heart  of  Ireland 

Must  break  or  find  relief. 
A  star  of  the  first  magnitude 

Has  fallen  from  its  sphere, 
And  Erin's  sky  is  shrouded 

In  gloomy,  dark  despair. 

Could  Death,  forever  ruthless, 
Have  found  no  other  mark, 

For  this  cruel,   fated  arrow, 
Shot  blindly  in  the  dark? 


California  and  Other  Poems  35 

Were  there  not  tens  of  thousands, 

Brave  Irish  hearts  and  true, 
Who  would  gladly  die,  that  Parnell 

Might  push  his  conquests  through? 

''How  are  the  mighty  fallen!" 

They  say  in  lordly  hall, 
While  a  gloomy,  sad   foreboding 

Is  felt  by  great  and  small. 
But  a  true  and  honest  sorrow 

Dwells  in  the  hovels  poor, 
WThere  the  bleak  October  tempest 

Howls  through  each  shattered  door. 

And  little  squalid  children 

Flock  to  their  mother's  knee, 
To  hear  of  him,  whom  they  had  hoped 

Would  set  their  country  free. 
"Ochone  a  lannah !  a  lannah ! 

Great  Parnell  is  no  more ; 
Our  hopes  are  set  in  darkest  night, 

He  is  dead,  a  villah  sthore!" 

Weep  on,  oppressed  people, 

Since  weeping  is  your  lot : 
By  retributive  justice 

Your  cause  is  not  forgot. 
Some  other  mighty  leader 

May  at  your  helm  soon  stand ; 
But  the  stranded  craft  of  Erin 

Moves  slow  to  stranger  hand. 


36  California  and  Other  Poems 


ABOUT  HEAVEN. 

I  did  not  think  much  about  heaven 

When  Ethel  sat  with  me 
On  the  sunny  brow  of  Glenallah, 

O'erlooking  the  blue  sea ; 
Sweet  innocence  enshrined  her 

Like  vestal  robes  of  white, 
Her  presence  made  my  heaven 

All  beautiful  and  bright. 

Sweet  was  the  lovelight  in  her  eyes, 

And  pure  as  heaven's  blue, 
Revealing  such  a  noble  soul, 

Affectionate  and  true. 
The  calm  sea  like  a  sheet  of  glass 

Reflected  heaven  above; 
That  day  her  fondly  whispered,  "Yes" 

Responded  to  my  love. 

Her  little  foot  beat  nervously 

The  daisy-spangled  ward, 
Her  white  hand  trembled  within  mine, 

Like  a  coy  woodland  bird, 
When  half  in  sorrow,  half  in  joy, 

She  spoke  these  words  to  me: 
"In  God's   fadeless  bright   forever 

There  shall  be  no  more  sea.'  " 
#  *  *  *  * 

They  brought   me  my  darling  dead — 
Drowned  in  Glenallah  Bay — 

The  golden  glory  of  her  head 
Dripping  with  angry  spray. 


California  and  Other  Poems  37 

The  light  from  her  eyes  had  vanished, 

Her  little  hand  lay  still; 
May  God  forget  a  prayer  I  said 

Beneath  Glenallah  Hill! 

O  the  green,  angry  ocean, 

How  I  did  hate  its  roar, 
As  it  moaned  and  tossed  its  billows 

Against  the  rock-bound  shore, 
No  tears  relieved  my  anguish 

Till  her  words  came  back  to  me: 
"In  God's  fadeless  bright  forever 

There  shall  be  no  more  sea.' ' 

Now  I  often  think  of  heaven, 

With  its  many  mansions  fair, 
Because  she  is  watching  and  waiting 

Until  I  join  her  there 
By  the  calm  and  beautiful  river, 

Where  trees  of  healing  grow 
In  God's  fadeless  bright  forever, 

Beyond  time's  ebb  and  flow. 

Yet  somehow  my  fancy  pictures 

A  smiling,  calm  blue  sea, 
With  Ethel  sitting  beside  me, 

Where  death  can  never  be; 
When  I  read  of  the  "sea  of  glass" 

I  think  of  Glenallah  Bay, 
As  it  slept  in  tranquil  beauty 

One  glad,  bright  summer  day. 


38  California  and  Other  Poems 


THANKSGIVING:    A  TRUE   STORY. 

It  was  the  eve  of  Thanksgiving, 

The  scene  was  in  the  East, 
Where  frost  and  snow  lay  everywhere 

To  emphasize  the  feast; 
And  over  all   a  rain-storm, 

With  thunder-sounding  dread, 
Like  Gabriel's  final  trumpet 

That  wakens  up  the  dead. 

Upon  a  lone,  bleak  mountain 

A  woman  barred  the  door, 
Then  lay  her  three  small  children 

Down  flat  upon  the  floor ; 
For  lightning  flashed  like  fury 

Around  them  everywhere. 
She  prayed  aloud :    "God  help  us 

All,  in  His  loving  care !" 

Their  father,  her  protector, 

Lay  drunk  in  a  saloon, 
Away  down  in  the  city, 

Since  early  yester  noon. 
There  is  no  food.     He  went  to  buy 

Some  good  things  for  the  day 
The  nation   calls  Thanksgiving, 

When  to  the  Lord  they  pray. 

"My  head   is   aching,  mother," 

The  youngest  baby  said ; 
"I  think  I  must  be  hungry, 

And  want  a  piece  of  bread." 


California  and  Other  Poems  39 

The  other  two  complained  not, 

But  moaned  as  if  in  pain ; 
They  both  were  red  as  lobsters. 

The  mother's  skill  was  vain ! 

The  storm  abated  somewhat ; 

She  put  the  babes  to  bed 
And  started  for  the  doctor 

Who  lived  three  miles  ahead. 
He  quarantined  the  little  home — 

'Twas  scarlet  fever,  sure. 
God  pity  the  poor  mother 

And  help  her  to  endure ! 

He  did.     The  neighbors  far  and  wide 

Came  flocking  to  her  aid, 
With  turkey,  bread,  mince  pie  and  cake 

That  in  the  shed  they  laid. 
She  spread  her  table  thankfully, 

Her  voice  arose  in  prayer: 
"Almighty  Father,  bless  the  friends 

Who  of  Thy  poor  take  care!" 

A  timid  knock  came  to  the  door, 

A  tramp  came  seeking  bread. 
She  sent  him  to  the  woodshed. 

Where  he  was  amply  fed. 
'Tis  thus  the  loaves  and  fishes 

Are  ever  multiplied 
For  His  dear  sake  who  gave  Himself — 

The  Just  One,  Crucified. 


4O  California  and  Other  Poems 


THE  CIVIC  CLUB  BANQUET. 

Hurrah !  Hurrah  for  the  Civic  Club 

And  its  members  good  and  true ! 
And  hurrah  for  their  royal  banquet 

That  cheers  us  through  and  through  ! 
They  light  the  torch  of  progress 

And  advertise  our  land — 
Its  orange  groves,  its  fertile  plains, 

Its  mountains  wild  and  grand. 

Three   cheers   for   California, 

And  San  Luis  Obispo! 
The  sweetest,  dearest  home  nest 

You  find  where'er  you  go, 
Blooming  with  vernal  beauty 

The  live  long  year  around. 
Take  off  your  shoes  and  worship, 

For  this  is  holy  ground. 

Where  buried  gold  and  wealth  untold 

Await  the  toiler's  hand, 
Not  the  man  with  the  hoe  of  long  ago, 

But  the  athlete  strong  and  grand — 
Our   Polytechnic   product 

Of  independent  mien; 
Lord  of  himself — a  king  and  priest 

In   Labor's  vast  domain. 

Here  there  is  bread  and  work  for  all 
With  honest  heart  and  brain; 

Rich,  fertile  lands  to  cultivate 
With  mellow  fruits  and  grain. 


California  and  Other  Poems  41 

Life  is  worth   while,  beneath  the  sky 

Of  this  progressive  State, 
Where  duty  is  a  pleasure 

And  Virtue  maketh  great. 

Dear  sisters  of  the  Civic  Club 

Look  toward  the  east  to  see 
A  dawning  opportunity 

For  Native  Industry ; 
Your  shells  convert  to  buttons, 

Your  seaweed  into  kelp — 
Build  factories  along  the  coast 

To  yield  the  stranger  help. 

Agitate  and  agitate! 

For  street-cars  here  and  there; 
We  get  too  stiff  with  walking 

And  can  afford  the  fare. 
Those  who  have  got  the  money 

Will  aid  you  in  each  plan 
You  form  for  the  betterment 

Of  every  living  man. 

From  every  wind  of  heaven, 

Strangers  are  blown  this  way; 
It  rests  with  you — it  rests  with  all 

If  they  have  come  to  stay 
Where  they  may  give  their  children 

A  golden  chance  to  see 
The  wonders  of  Eternal  Love 

Crowning  Humanity. 


42  California  and  Other  Poems 


A  CHRISTMAS  REVERIE. 

An  old  man,  sad  and  weary, 

Sat  in  the  Yule  log's  glow, 
Recalling  in  dim  vision 

The  scenes  of  long  ago. 
He  sees  a  boy  reclining 

On  pillows  soft  and  white, 
Watching  for  good  old  Santa  Claus 

Throughout  the  live-long  night. 

But  in  the  early  dawning 

He  fell  asleep  at  last, 
Just  at  the  very  moment 

Santa  flitted  past ; 
For  there  hung  his  big  stocking 

Full  of  delightful  things. 
"Hurrah,"  he  shouts,  "for  Christmas, 

And  the  good  cheer  it  brings." 

Upon   the   homestead   threshold 

He  sees  his  mother  stand; 
Her  parting  tears  are  falling 

Upon  his  clinging  hand. 
"God  bless  my  boy,"  she  sobbed  aloud ; 

"From  sorrow,  sin  and  shame, 
May  he  be  ever  shielded 

In  the  Redeemer's  Name." 

And  in  life's  hottest  conflict, 
Through  good  report  and  ill, 

He  heard  that  tender  pleading, 
Guiding  his  wayward  will. 


California  and  Other  Poems  43 

Ah!  mother's  love  enduring, 

Christ-like,  unto  the  end, 
A  nation's  sacred  incense 

That  from  home  nests  ascend. 

The  scene  is  changed.     A  lady  fair, 

Bearing  the  wand  of  love, 
Of  noble,  queenly  bearing, 

Yet  gentle  as  a  dove, 
He  woos  and  wins,  and  proudly 

Bears  his  young  bride  away — 
A  wife,  from  God's  own  altar, 

One  happy  Christmas  Day. 

"Dead!     Twenty  years,  this  Yule-tide," 

He  murmurs  with  a  groan, 
"She  left  me  baby  Alice. 

I  am  not  all  alone. 
Yonder,  with  her  lover 

Under  the  mistletoe, 
She  talks  of  getting  married, 

And  leaving  me,  I  know." 

Then  o'er  the  dying  embers, 

The  old  man  bending  low, 
Prayed  heaven  to  guard  his  little  one 

And  shield  her  from  all  woe. 
They  celebrated  Christmas, 

Xut  dreaming  of  the  tears 
That  fell  beside  the  Yule  log 

O'er  memories  of  past  years. 


44  California  and  Other  Poems 


LET  THERE  BE  LIGHT. 

(The  London  churches  turn  down  the  light  to  con 
ciliate  the  poor.) 

Turn  down  the  light,  the  poor  are  here; 
Lest  the  flash  of  your  diamonds,  rich  and  rare, 
Should  turn  to  a  curse  the  pauper's  prayer. 

Turn   down  the  lights :   the   widow's  weeds 
Are  shabby,  and  tell  of  her  daily  needs, 
Louder  than  prayers  and  chants  and  creeds. 

A  soldier  brave  bore  her  heart  away 

To  Africa,  one  bright  May  day; 

For  his  soul's  repose  she  comes  to  pray. 

Her  face  is  pale  from  want  and  woe, 
Her  eyes  are  dim  and  her  step  is  slow, 
Once  on  a  time  it  was  not  so. 

Alack !  for  your  diamonds,  O  ladies  fair, 
They  are  baubles  in  view  of  her  grand  despair ; 
While  God  is  listening  to  her  prayer. 

Turn  down  the  lights :  a  chieftain  brave 
Appeals  to  omniscience  his  life  to  save, 
From  exile  or  from  a  felon's  grave. 

He  did  no  wrong  his  soul  to  stain, 

He  defended  the  weak  and  would  again, 

Hanged  or  imprisoned,  his  deeds  remain. 


California  and  Other  Poems  45 

A  proud  reproof  to  England's  wrong, 
For  retributive  justice  is  true  and  strong; 
And  the  hero  lives  in  his  country's  song. 

Turn  down  the  lights:  There  are  sins  untold, 

Hidden  away  in  cathedrals  old; 

Where  spoils  of  office  are  bought  and  sold. 

Turn  up  the  lights,  on  your  ladies  proud, 
Ere  the  pauper's  rags  become  their  shroud. 
Hark !  Hark  pale  justice  is  calling  loud. 

"Let  there  be  light,"  Jehovah  calls, 
In  church,  in  state  and  lobby  halls, 
To  read  the  handwriting  on  the  walls. 


MY   BEST  VALENTINE,  A.  W.   SHURRAGAR, 

JR. 

Arthur  Welesley  Junior, 

You  captivate  my  heart; 
I  am  the  love-lorn  victim 

Of  Cupid's  cruel  dart. 
Your  eyes  have  wooed  and  won  me ; 

Your  smile,  like  sunshine,  cheers 
My  very  soul  to  ecstasy, 

Checkered  by  hopes  and  fears. 

For  dearest  love,  we  cannot  tell, 

As  seers  and  prophets  do 
The  things  the  future  must  unfold 

To  Valentines,  like  you. 


46  California  and  Other  Poems 

But  this  is  still  a  comfort: 
Unto  our  Father's  care 

I  can  entrust  my  darling 
In  loving,  heartfelt  prayer. 

Ah  me !   Ah  me !    My  precious  one, 

I'm  jealous  to  the  core, 
Lest  any  evil  thing  befall 

My  loved  one  evermore. 
May  God  Almighty  shield  him 

Within  omniscient  care, 
Leading  him  gently  by  the  hand, 

Then  there  is  naught  to  fear. 

Arthur,  little  sweetheart, 

My  very  light  of  love, 
My  precious,  priceless  Valentine, 

All  gold  and  gems,  above. 
Now  nestle  closely  to  my  heart 

And  kiss  my  cheek  and  brow, 
And  vow  that  in  the  coming  years 

You'll  love  me,  just  as  now. 

Not  two  years  old,  you  little  elf, 

You  charm  all  you  meet! 
To  lay  their  loving  homage 

Down  at  your  baby  feet. 
I  fear  you  only  say,  "Goo !  Goo !" 

Your  grandma's  eyes  to  blind, 
To  all  the  flirting  you  can  do 

Her  doting  back  behind. 


California  and  Other  Poems  47 


EASTER  DAWN. 

The  glorious  dawn  of  Easter 

Is  waking"  up  the  East, 
Inspiring  us  with  gladness 

That  we  may  keep  the  feast; 
Casting  aside  the  garments 

Of  sordid,  base  desire, 
Until  our  hearts  are  warmed 

By  Faith's  own  holy  fire. 

Earth's  manhood  has  been  sleeping 

Within  the  silent  tomb, 
Strong  guards  have  long  been  keeping 

Their  watch  through  years  of  gloom. 
The  angel  has  descended 

And  rolled  the  stone  away, 
And  folded  up  the  grave  clothes 

For  resurrection  day. 

The  guards  are  falling  dead  around 

The  dawning  in  the  East, 
For  God's  own  angel  spreadeth 

The  resurrection  feast. 
Awake,  O  earth,  and  banish 

Death's  sleep  from  out  thine  eye, 
That  in  the  dawn  of  Easter 

The  sin  and  shame  may  die. 

Till  down  falls  that  tall  giant, 
A  guard  both  fierce  and  strong, 

Whose  cruel  eye  hath  gloated 
On  misery  so  long; 


California  and  Other  Poems 

For,  dazzled  by  the  dawning, 
Grim  War  lays  down  his  sword 

And  kneels  in  adoration 
Before  the  risen  Lord. 

And  grinding,  grim  monopoly 

Awakes  and  rubs  its  eye. 
Above  the  tomb  'tis  written, 

"The  soul  that  sins  must  die" — 
That  sins  against  humanity 

And  wrongs  the  weak  and  poor, 
Another  guard  is  smitten  dead 

Before  the  open  door. 

Then  came  a  tall,  fierce  giant  strong, 

The  tomb  of  Christ  to  guard, 
And  promised  gold  in  plenty 

As  vigilance's  reward; 
But  Mammon  fell  as  dead  before 

The  dawning  Easter  light, 
And  God's  own  precious  Son  arose 

In  manhood's  deathless  might. 

Hypocrisy  next  fell  away, 

With  canting  Doubt  and  Fear, 
For  in  the  light  of  Easter  day 

Men  read  things  true  and  clear; 
And  then,  becoming  masters 

Of  their  own  destiny, 
They  folded  up  the  grave  clothes 

On  tombs  of  slavery. 


California  and  Other  Poems  49 

Then  floated  high  the  banner 

Of  universal  love, 
As  tender  as  a  mother's  dream, 

As  gentle  as  a  dove ; 
For  God  so  loved  the  world 

That  His  own  Son  He  gave 
To  lead  into  the  higher  life 

The  tenants  of  the  grave. 


EASTER   1914. 

The  world  is  full  of  Easter  bloom, 
Hark !    Angels  sing  above  the  tomb 

Where   we  have   laid  our  dead. 
Above,  beneath  us  and  around, 
Earth's  many  voices  gladly  sound: 

"Mourner,  why  seek  the  dead 
Among  the  living?"     A  joyous  throng 
Are  moving,  noiselessly   along 

The  highway  of  the  Lord; 
Unnumbered  hosts  arrayed  in  white 
Are  moving  ever,  in  the  light, 

Enjoying  their  reward. 

God  has  a  place,  beyond  the  sun — 
An  Easter  home  for  everyone, 

With  everything  complete. 
The  tribulation  all  is  past, 
The  Rest  and  Peace  are  found  at  last 

Before  the  mercy  seat; 


50  California  and  Other  Poems 

And  here,  perchance,  they  come  at  will, 
God's  blessed  purpose  to  fulfill, 

For  loved  ones  left  behind. 
The  Prophet  saw  an  armed  host 
Around  him,  when  he  needed  most 

Their   ministration,  kind. 

'Tis   thus  the  cloud   of  witness,   strong, 
Protects  us,  ever,  from  all  wrong; 

Although  we  may  not  see 
The  sword  that  strikes  the  deadly  blow 
Against  our  formidable  foe, 

To  set  us  mortals  free. 
To  keep  the  Easter  feast,  indeed, 
According  to  the  Christian's  creed, 

"In  Him  we  live  and  move." 
For  Christ  is  risen  from  the  dead, 
Humanity's   triumphant   Head, 

Who  rules  and  reigns  by  Love. 

If  we  be  risen  with  the  Lord, 
Exceeding  great  is  the  reward 

Of  animated  clay, 

Who  seek  those  things  that  are  on  high, 
The  precious  things  that  never  die 

When  earth  shall  pass  away. 
Live  for  humanity,  and  die 
If  need  be  for  thy  calling  high ; — 

Your  Easter's  guiding  Star. 
Sing  the  new  redemption  song; 
The  desert  march  will  seem  less  long 

And  Canaan's  shore  less  far. 


California  and  Other  Poems  51 


RETROSPECTIVE. 

I'm  going  home.     I'm  glad  to  go, 

The  journey  has  been  long. 
My  footsteps  now  are  very  slow, 

Once  vigorous  and  strong. 
Rest,  sweet  rest,  and  peace  at  last, 

Safe  in  the  promised  land, 
One  little  step  across  the  stream 

To  reach  the  golden  strand. 

A  little  babe  tossed  by  the  tide 

Upon  an  unknown  coast 
Into  a  mother's  sheltering  arms, 

Where  frailty  counted  most. 
Before  the  dawn  of  reason's  day 

Awoke  my  slumbering  soul, 
My  mother's  love  prepared  the  way 

To  the  desired  goal. 

Across  life's  sultry  desert  way, 

A  maiden  fair  looks  far 
Into  the  Eden,  smiling  gay 

With  bloom,  beyond  hope's  star. 
In  rosy  hues  she  dimly  saw 

Enchanting  love-lit  bowers, 
Wherein  to  live  was  Paradise 

Created  for  young  lovers. 

She  gained  the  Eden  of  her  dreams — 
The  Promised  Land  of  love. 

Her  childhood's  home  was  left  behind. 
Her  mother  gone  above. 


52  California  and  Other  Poems 

'Tis  good  to  live  and  best  to  love, 
'Tis  sweet  to  hope  and  wait 

For  little  baby  kisses 

Fresh  from  the  Pearly  Gate. 

Some  are  married,  some  are  dead; 

My  babes  of  long  ago, 
And  he  who  loved  the  mother  best 

In  yonder  grave  lies  low. 
Upon  my  heart,  incased  in  gold, 

A  lock  of  raven  hair 
Is  all  that's  left  of  Ronald  now, 

My  lover,  young  and  fair. 

And  looking  back,  I  see  it  all, 

And  in  my  clouded  brain 
I  darkly  see,  as  in  a  glass, 

Life's  milestones  o'er  again. 
My  Ronald,  aye,  so  kind  and  true, 

My  Ben  and  pretty  Bess, 
Were  good  and  promising  to  view, 

Whom  all  should  love  and  bless. 

And  now  I'm  old,  and  all  alone 

To  wait  the  coming  tide; 
'Tis  but  a  step,  a  little  step 

Unto  the  other  side! 
And  the  loved  and  lost  are  dearest, 

The  absent  always  best; 
I  long  to  lay  my  weary  head 

Again  on  Roland's  breast, 


California  and  Other  Poems  53 

And  hear  once  more  the  pattering  feet 

Of  little  ones  I  laid 
Beneath  the  blooming  locust  tree, 

In  fragrant,  balmy  shade. 
And  yet  I'm  very  lonely, 

To  leave  old  Mother  Earth, 
She  has  been  kind  and  good  to  me 

Since  first  God  gave  me  birth. 


IN  LENT. 

Lord  Christ,  I  scarcely  know  the  way ; 

The  drifts  are  deep,  the  night  is  cold, 
But  Thou  wilt  never  let  me  stray, 

Good  Shepherd  of  the  lower  fold. 

The  wind  blows  bleak,  across  the  moor, 
O'er  sleeping  places  of  my  dead, 

And  grief  lies  heavy  at  my  door, 
Where  offerings  might  rest  instead. 

With  weeping  sore  mine  eyes  are  dim, 
I  cannot  see  the  narrow  way. 

My  only  hope,  I  walk  with  Him 
Who  will  not  suffer  me  to  stray. 

My  Lord  and  Savior,  lead  me  still 
Until  I  reach  the  upper  fold  ; 

I  yield  submission  to  Thy  will 
However  dark  the  night  and  cold. 


54  California  and  Other  Poems 

THANKSGIVING,   1911. 

America,  thy  voice  attune 

To  psalm  of  highest  praise, 
For  all  the  mercies  of  the  past 

And  hopes  of  future  days. 
Thou  art  the  first  of  nations 

The  blessed  sun  smiles  on, 
The  Lord  of  Hosts,  alone,  thy  king, 

Through  conquests  nobly  won. 

America !  America ! 

Thy  stars  and  stripes  should  be 
A  token  betwixt  man  and  man 

Of  Truth  and  Equity! 
Hold  fast  thy  blood-bought  heritage, 

That  vice  and  wrong  may  flee 
Before  thy  honored,  stainless  flag — 

The  standard  of  the  free! 

The  cursed  thing  now  in  thy  midst 

Spreads  o'er  the  nation,  wide. 
The  wealthy  have  made  golden  calves 

To  worship  in  their  pride. 
The  coffers  of  the  land  o'erflow 

With  gold;  yet,  hark;  the  tears  and  groans 
Of  toiling  millions  doubly  taxed 

For  pomp,  that  rivals  thrones ! 


California  and  Other  Poems 

The  trusts  have  curiR-red  meat  and  oil 

Till  orphans  wail  for  bread, 
And  widows  knead  their  little  cake 

And  wish  that  they  were  dead ! 
"They've  raised  our  taxes,  too,"  they  cry ; 

"Few  can  afford  to  pay 
For  a  bit  of  chicken  dinner 

On  this  Thanksgiving  Day ! 

"The  beef  trusts  raise  the  price  of  meat, 

We  cannot  buy  a  bone. 
And  fish  is  nothing  better, 

We  must  let  both  alone." 
"Let  charity,"  quoth  Uncle  Sam, 

"O'er  all  this  land  hold  sway, 
That  rich  and  poor  together 

Observe  Thanksgiving  Day." 

Dear  Uncle,  it  is  kindly  meant, 

But  hold  the  flag  full  high, 
And  let  it  warn  your  grafters 

The  honest  poor  would  die 
Before  accepting  money, 

Or  food  or  clothes,  or  aught 
By  which  their  fellow  creatures 

Are  robbed,  or  sold,  or  bought ! 

Behold  !     Within  your  sanctuary 

A  poor  man  stands  alone, 
A  saintly  halo  crowns  His  brow — 

He  came  unto  His  own. 


56  California  and  Other  Poems 

But  all  exclaim,  "Not  this  man, 

Away  with  Him,  away ! 
We  want  but  Egypt's  flesh-pots 

On  this  Thanksgiving  Day." 

Methinks,   the   Man   of   Sorrows   pleads : 

"Eternity  is  long. 
Man  cannot  live  by  bread  alone, 

Death  takes  the  rich  and  strong. 
My  lambs  on  the  bleak  mountains 

Perish  with  want  and  cold. 
Ye  rich  men  and  monopolists, 

Life  is  much  more  than  gold !" 

Then  Uncle  Sam  unfurled  the  flag 

With  patriotic  pride, 
Saying,  I  thank  the  Lord,  now  women  vote, 

Wrong  shall  be  put  aside. 
The  glorious  dawrn  of  righteousness 

Ushers  the  golden  day 
•     When  peace,  joy  and  prosperity 

Shall  crown  Thanksgiving  Day. 

And  when  the  single  tax  is  here, 

The  masses  now  crushed  down 
Shall  seek  no  alms  at  rich  men's  gates 

In  country  or  in  town. 
But  in  the  meantime  thanks  are  due 

To  God  for  gifts  untold ; 
For  simple,  daily  blessings 

Outweigh  the  calf  of  gold. 


California  and  Other  Poems  .  57 

GOD'S  TOUCH. 

(From  the  German.) 

There  was  once  a  master  builder 

Who  toiled  on  year  after  year, 
On  one  instrument  of  music 

Lavishing  his  thought  and  care; 
Till  within  the  organ's  chambers 

His  soul  lodged  in  some  strange  way : 
Only  for  the  true  and  faithful 

Did  this  organ  ever  play. 

For  the  instrument  completed 

Was  a  miracle  of  art, 
Playing  by  Divine  suggestion 

Only  to  the  pure  in  heart. 
It  was  marvelous  and  unique,  . 

Xc'cr  before  was  any  such. 
Multitudes  came  far  to  see  it, 

And  they  praised  its  builder  much. 

His  demeanor  still  was  humble, 

Never  boastful,  never  proud. 
"It  is  God,"  he  said,  "who  does  it," 

And  his  speech  well  pleased  the  crowd. 
So  they  lauded  the  great  Builder, 

Till  his  fame  spread  far  and  wide, 
And  he  won  the  fairest  lady 

In  the  land  to  be  his  bride. 


58  California  and  Other  Poems 

On  his  wedding  day,  elated, 

He  thought  of  the  music  grand 
That  his  wonderful  creation 

Should  peal  forth,  at  his  command ; 
Thought  of  all  the  pomp  and  glory 

Till  his  heart  gave  place  to  pride, 
And  he  thought  more  of  his  triumphs 

Than  the  lady  by  his  side. 

He  saw  nothing  but  the  organ, 

His  great  masterpiece  of  art, 
Forgetful  of  the  priceless  treasure 

Of  a  young  and  guileless  heart. 
Not  one  prayer  from  him  ascended 

To  the  throne  of  God  that  day. 
All  his  thoughts  were  of  the  organ 

And  the  music  it  would  play. 

When  the  bridal  party  entered, 

Bright  and  joyous  as  the  day, 
Not  one  note  came  from  the  organ 

When  he  signaled  it  to  play ! 
From  the  chancel  gazed  the  Builder 

On  his  silent  work  of  Art, 
Disappointment  on  his  features, 

Evil  passions  in  his  heart. 

"She  is  false !"  he  thundered  fiercely, 

"Or  my  organ  would  have  played," 
And  he  left  the  bridal  party 

At  the  altar,  sore  dismayed. 
Then  the  young  bride,  in  her  beauty, 

Doubly  widowed,  died  at  heart. 
But  it  was  not  all  the  doing 

Of  the  Builder's  work  of  art. 


California  and  Other  Poems  59 

Years  rolled  on.     She  slowly  faded. 

To  her  maid  she  said  one  day, 
"Bring  my  wedding-  dress,  I'll  wear  it 

On  the  journey  far  away." 
And  upon  her  wasted  finger 

She  replaced  the  wedding  ring. 
Thus  she  passed  within  the  portal 

Of  the  Palace  of  the  King. 

As  they  bore  the  coffin,  slowly, 

Past  the  organ,  up  the  aisle, 
Came  a  stranger  and  stood  near  it, 

Weeping  sadly  all  the  while. 
Then  he  spoke  unto  the  people 

In  a  voice  'twixt  sob  and  cry : 
"I  am  the  poor  organ   Builder; 

I  have  come,  with  her  to  die." 

Then  upon  the  congregation 

Fell  such  music  as  was  ne'er 
This  side  of  the  gate  of  heaven 

Listened  to  by  mortal  ear. 
"She  was  true.     You  both  have  suffered, 

Now  kind  heaven  takes  you  in. 
Truth  and  Love  are  both  eternal ; 

In  your  pride  lay  all  the  sin." 

Side  by  side  they  laid  the  lovers, 

Harps  of  lilies  in  their  hands, 
For  the  undertones  of  music 

The  Creator  understands. 
But  the  Builder's  wondrous  organ 

Never  uttered  note  again, 
But  within  the  hearts  of  many 

Linger  still  its  last  refrain. 


60  California  and  Other  Poems 


HALLOW-EVE. 

I  sit  beside  the  embers, 

Where  shadows  come  and  go. 
It  is  the  twilight  hour, 

The  sun  is  sinking  low. 
I  feel  both  sad  and  weary 

With  the  burdens  of  the  day; 
For  the  weight  of  years  is  heavy 

When  youth  has  passed  away. 

With  head  at  rest  upon  my  arm, 

I  gave  my  fancy  fling, 
For  it  was   Hallowe'en,   when   all 

The  unseen  spirits  sing. 
With  all  the  hosts  of  heaven 

Swelling  the  chorus  grand, 
I  heard  the  heavenly  music 

But  failed  to  understand 

Until  I  saw  them  flocking 

Around  the  dark'ning  room. 
Then  I  heard  and  looked,  in  wonder, 

For  my  loved  ones  too  had  come. 
The  joy  of  it  oppressed  me 

When  I  heard  my  favorite  song 
About  the  New  Jerusalem, 

I  had  not  heard  so  long. 

Not  since  my  little  Annie 

Sang  it  last  to  me, 
And  played  it  on  the  violin — 

Well,  maybe  you  can  see? 


California  and  Other  Poems  61 

And  she  came  up  still  singing 

And  touched  my  tears  away ; 
••.Mother!"  >he  said,  so  softly, 

"To-morrow  is  'All  Saints  Day !' ' 

And  patter,  patter,  o'er  the  floor, 

My  little  two-year-old 
Came  toddling  to  my  arms, 

His  hands  and  feet  so  cold. 
I  tucked  him  snug  and  warm 

And  clasped  him  to  my  breast, 
But  when  I  kissed  my  baby 

He  vanished  with  the  rest. 


A  STRANGE  VALENTINE. 

Dear  love  of  mine,  this  Valentine 

Expressly  framed  for  you, 
Has  got  no  tinsel  trappings 

To  captivate  the  view ; 
And  yet  methinks  its  language 

More  redolent  with  love 
Than  garlands  of  June  roses 

Or  cooing  of  the  dove. 

In  thought,  I  see  you  ponder 

The  meaning  of  its  lore, 
Which   is,   that   love   worth   having 

Is  love  for  evermore. 
No  flitting,  fading  emblem 

Could  represent  to  you 
What  can  but  be  interpreted 

By  something  strong  and  true. 


62  California  and  Other  Poems 

To  win  you  for  my  Valentine, 

Out  of  the  vaulted  blue 
I  would  of  twinkling  little  stars 

Make  coronets  for  you. 
I'd  dive  the  deepest  ocean 

To  find  the  gems  most  rare, 
And  with  love's  fond  emotion 

Entwine  them  in  your  hair. 

I  would  do  more.    This  wondrous  age, 

With  all  its  pomp  and  pride 
Should  bow  with  loyal  homage 

Before  my  chosen  bride. 
For  I,  her  king,  would  sweetly  sing 

Her  beauty  and  her  worth 
Until  her  fame  resounded, 

With  glory  o'er  the  earth. 

But  much  of  this  is  fancy,  dear, 

Though  some  of  it  is  truth, 
For  romance  paints  in  gorgeous  hues 

The  sweet  day-dreams  of  youth. 
Perchance  a  sad  to-morrow, 

Along  the  unknown  way 
May  cast  a  cloud  of  sorrow 

On  bright  hopes  of  to-day. 

Pale  roses,  then,  and  violets, 

Might  tell  the  tale  more  true, 
But,  dearest  love,  this  Valentine 

I  cannot  well  undo. 
As  fittest  emblem  of  your  worth, 

And  of  the  love  I  feel, 
I  send  you,  set  in  precious  stones, 

A  heart  of  truest  steel. 


California  and  Other  Poems  63 


THE  LURE  OF  AUTUMN. 

It  is  not  fortune's  fickle  smile 
That  fills  my  soul  with  bliss, 

It  is  not  wealth  that  can  beguile 
Life's  misery  like  this ; 

The  magic  born  of  earth  and  sky 
Lure  on  to  joys  that  never  die. 

Painting  in  colors  rich  and  rare 
The  landscape  far  and  wide, 

Green,  gold  and  amber  smiling  fair, 
Decay  and  death  to  hide. 

Athwart  the  lawn  are  dying  beds 

On  which  kind  Autumn,  beauty  sheds. 

"My  days  are  in  the  yellow  sere," 

Sang  out  a  poet,  long  ago, 
\Yhat  is  there  in  this  thought  to  fear? 

\Yhether  death  come  fast  or  slow. 
The  buds  are  on  the  tree  that  shed 

The  sere  leaves  on  the  violet's  bed. 

The  sun  smiles  warmly  and  gay— 
A  golden  glow  spreads  o'er  the  west, 

The  green  hills  beckon   far  away 
To  Eden  bowers  of  rest. 

What  is  it  mortals  have  to  fear 

When  mellow  Autumn  draweth  near? 


64  California  and  Other  Poems 

It  is  the  glory  of  the  year, 

This  harvest  time  of  richest  store, 

When  full  and  plenty  banish  care 
And  spread  a  feast  before  the  poor, 

Whispering  "Spring  will  come  again, 
And  joy  eternal  banish  pain." 


LABOR  DAY,  1913. 

Clear  the  track,  you  idle  drones 

That  neither  toil  nor  spin! 
Let  the  sons  of  toil  march  on  to-day 
The  world's  applause  to  win. 
We  push  and  we  groan, 
Till  the  work  is  done ; 
Then  another  task  begin. 

Our  hands  are  hard  as  the  clay  we  mold, 

Our  limbs  are  too  weary  to  move, 
But  we  toil  along  day  in,  day  out 
For  the  sake  of  those  we  love. 

The  sweat  runs  down  our  faces  grim 
While  we  tune  our  hearts  to  the  toiler's  hymn 
In  appeal  to  God  above: — 

Labor  is  sweet  for  Christ  has  toiled; 

He  trod  Life's  toilsome  way, 
And  no  matter  how  our  hands  are  soiled 
We  can  raise  them  to  Him  and  pray 

For  the  rest  that  comes,  when  work  is  done, 
And  the  peace  at  setting  of  the  sun, 
In  green  fields  far  away. 


California  and  Other  Poems  65 

Clear  the  track !     Your  gems  and  gold, 

Your  stretches  of  fertile  land, 
Your  houses  filled  with  toys  untold, 
Your  blue  blood  and  titles  grand. 

Get  out  of  our  way,  with  your  fraud  and  sham 
You  steal  the  wool  of  the  shorn  lamb 
And  Justice  and  truth  withstand. 

Make  room  on  God's  earth  so  green  and  fair, 

For  children  weak  and  small 
Who  perish  for  want  of  food  and  air 
In  tenements  close  and  tall ; 

They  scarcely  know  when  the  light  of  day 
Kisses  the  dewdrops  far  away, 
Or  the  lark's  "good  morning"  call. 

Father  of  Light,  life  is  too  short 

And  the  road  to  its  end  so  hard ! 
Why  should  men  try  to  grasp  too  much, 
But  lose  the  great  reward? 

The  fool,  who  built  his  barns  high, 
Was  called  of  God  that  day  to  die, 
And,  believe  me,  he  found  it  hard. 

How  long?    O,  Lord  of  Hosts,  how  long 

Shall  unrighteousness  and  wrong 
Retard  the  world's  progress 
As  the  toilers  march  along? 

To-day,  in  accents  bold  they  proclaim 
"To  hunter  and  toiler  belong  the  game, 
While  plunder  belongs  to  none." 


66  California  and  Other  Poems 


THE  BALLOT,  1910. 

Indeed  it  is  a  time  of  fear 

And  trembling,  when  the  billows  near, 

Our  ship  of  state  to  sink. 
Jehovah,  calm  the  surging  sea, 
Until  in  calm  security 

We  reach  the  haven's  brink. 

Why  need  we  fear?    In  Thee  we  trust. 
What  craven  gloats  o'er  piles  of  dust 

In  this  approaching  fight? 
For  principles  both  true  and  tried 
Our  fathers  voted,  bled,  and  died 

Defenders  of  the  Right. 

Let  blue  and  gray  as  one  unite, 
Breasting  the  wave,  in  manhood's  might, 

For  strong  the  noble  cause ; 
And  may  the  King  of  Nations  hear 
Our  earnest  and  united  prayer 

For  just  and  equal  laws. 

America,  first  Queen  of  earth, 
Asserts  her  claim  to  royal  birth, 

Fresh  from  Jehovah's  hand ; 
Each  voter  is  a  priest  and  king 
By  right  Divine,  with  power  to  bring 

Forth  bread  for  all  this  land. 

Then  freeborn  sons,  of  royal  birth, 
Defend  this  fairest  land  on  earth 
From  tyranny  and  wrong; 


California  and  Other  Poems  67 

Flock  to  the  standard  of  the  free 
And  strike  down  fraud  and  bribery 
With  steady  aim  and  strong. 

The  land  and  gold  are  but  a  trust, 
Which  we,  as  stewards  one  day  must 

Yield  up  at  Death's  command. 
Then  let  us  in  God's  name  be  clean, 
From  subterfuge  and  all  things  mean, 

Worthy  our  birthright  grand. 


LONGINGS,  1912. 

Oh !  for  a  breath  of  the  breezy  hills 

O'ershadowing  Dublin  Bay! 
Where  dewy  nectar  the  wild  rose  fills, 
That  blooms  and  blushes  by  rippling  rills, 

And  smiles  through  the  livelong  day. 

And  oh!  for  a  fairy  boat  to  take 

Me  over  the  waters  blue 
Of  beautiful  Killarney  Lake, 
Where  wild  birds  chanted  in  sylvan  brake 

A  thrilling  last  adieu 

As  I  left  the  cottage,  ivy  grown, 

Near  the  old  oak  by  the  well, 
From  which  the  nestlings  all  have  flown ; 
Now  rank  wild  weeds  their  seeds  have  sown 

Round  the  dear  old  house  in  the  dell. 


68  California  and  Other  Poems 

I  sigh  for  the  dance  of  the  harvest  home, 

When  youths  and  maidens  fair, 
Frolicking,  rollicking,  hastened  to  come, 
And  the  gossip's  tongue  for  a  time  was  dumb, 

For  all  hearts  were  free  from  care. 

I  sigh !    I  die !  in  the  stranger's  land, 

No  matter  how  fair  it  be; 
For  I  cannot  grasp  the  alien's  hand 
And  frame  fair  speeches  at  command 

Expressive  of  loyalty. 

King  Christmas  marches  down  the  line 
With  royal  gifts  and  music  fine 

That  make  my  heart  more  sad 
For  the  dear  old  scenes  of  long  ago 
And  the  dear  old  faces  lying  low 

That  made  Christmas  times  so  glad. 

The  world  grows  gray  in  the  twilight  dim 

When  the  lights  are  turned  low, 
And  we  chant  by  the  yule  log  the  Christmas  hymn 
About  the  Star  of  Bethlehem 

We  learned  so  long  ago. 

But  the  past  is  gone  beyond  recall 
And  silent  and  sad  is  the  manger  stall 

And  tears  unbidden  flow; 
For  the  ghosts  that  haunt  us  come  at  will 
Our  cup  of  memory  to  fill — 

And  temper  each  joy  with  woe. 


California  and  Other  Poems  69 


MY  VALENTINE. 

My  Valentine  is  young  and  fair, 
The  sunbeams  linger  in  her  hair, 

As  loving  to  caress  her. 
Her  eyes  are  bits  of  heaven's  blue, 
Where  little  twinkling  stars  shine  through. 

May  God  Almighty  bless  her! 

The  golden  ringlets  of  her  hair 
Have  formed  a  chain  so  soft  and  fair, 

Around  my  heart  forever; 
And  when  I  kiss  her  dimpled  chin 
I  breathe  a  prayer,  my  heart  within 

That  naught  our  love  may  sever. 

"Gladys"  is  my  sweetheart's  name. 
Already  she  is  known  to  fame, 

In  many  a  song  and  sonnet. 
Her  form  is  molded  in  true  grace, 
And  O!  the  beauty  of  her  face 

Framed  in  a  dainty  bonnet. 

To  hear  her  lisping  words,  so  wise, 
Revealing  dreams   of   Paradise 

Ere  sin  had  cursed  the  earth. 
For  hours  she  sits  upon  my  knee. 
Whispering  mysteries  to  me 

Of  Life  and  Death  and  Birth. 


70  California  and  Other  Poems 

In  her  companionship  I  find 
A  solace  for  a  troubled  mind. 

However  great  the  pain, 
She  brings  to  every  gloomy  mood 
Her  balm  of  Gilead,  tried  and  good, 

To  make  me  well  again. 

She's  only  six  years  old,  you  see ; 
But  fancy  what  my  love  will  be 

When  she  is  seventeen ! 
Will  she  be  grandma's  sweetheart  then? 
Or  will  the  very  best  of  men 

Step  in  as  Go-between? 


EVICTED— AN  IRISH  SCENE. 

He  stood  where  the  children  used  to  play, 

In  the  shady  yard  by  the  old  oak  tree — 
He  leaned  on  his  staff  and  thus  did  pray: 

"Lord,  in  Thy  mercy  remember  me, 
I  am  nearly  three-score  years  and  ten, 

And  life's  sad  day  is  well-nigh  o'er. 
If  my  soul  rebels  at  the  deeds  of  men, 

I  need  Thy  pity,  my  Lord,  the  more. 

"My  young  hands  planted  this  giant  oak; 

There,  'neath  its  shade  is  Molly's  bower, 
Where  her  golden  curls  I  used  to  stroke 

Ere  her  young  heart  dreamed  of  another  lover. 


California  and  Other  Poems  71 

Close  by  is  the  hawthorn  in  full  bloom 
My  Johnny  planted  when  five  years  old. 

I  laid  some  blossoms  on  his  tomb ; 
Maybe  he  knows  the  farm  is  sold! 

"My  grandfather  built  of  solid  stones 

That  humble  cot  where  I  first  drew  breath ; 
In  yonder  churchyard  they  laid  his  bones 

After  he  toiled  himself  to  death. 
Father  died  of  fever  while  young, 

Leaving  the  home  to  mother  and  me. 
Then  the  thorns  of  care  first  stung 

The  hand  that  planted  the  old  oak  tree. 

"I  cannot  help  thinking  that  cot  is  mine, 

Though  the  sale  is  legal,  the  people  say; 
I  hit,  ah  me!  the  law  draws  a  crooked  line 

When  a  man  owes  what  he  cannot  pay. 
But  what  does  it  matter,  I'm  old  and  sad, 

And  I  pray  kind  heaven  to  take  me  in ; 
The  Bible  says  there  is  rest  to  be  had 

And  that  Jesus  died  for  all  our  sin." 

Oh !    An  Irish  sunset  is  fair  to  see, 

With  Castle  Cloon  in  its  mellow  glow, 
But  a  white  dead  face  by  the  old  oak  tree 

Is  the  saddest  sight  the  earth  can  show. 
Yet  beyond  the  sunset  are  homes  of  light. 

Mansions  eternal  of  peace  and  love, 
And  the  laws  of  that  country  are  just  and  right, 

For  Christ  is  king  in  the  Courts  above. 


72  California  and  Other  Poems 


A  POEM  FOR  THE  CENTURY. 

He  paused  when  midway  up  the  aisle 

And  calmly  gazed  around, 
While  painted  faces  wore  a  smile, 

Although  on  holy  ground, 
Aimed  at  the  face  that  knew  no  guile, 
And  never  stooped  to  action  vile, 

In  heavenly  beauty  crowned. 

His  clothes  were  threadbare,  on  His  face 
Sat  holy  thoughts ;  not  proud — 

Alas !  for  Him  there  was  no  place 
Amid  that  godless  crowd, 

Where  empty  pews,  with  ghostly  stare, 

Said  tauntingly,  "Reserved  with  care 
For  dry  bones,  in  their  shroud." 

The  warden,  pompous,  fat  and  rude, 

Said,  "Yonder  by  the  door 
Are  special  seats,  when  folks  intrude 

Who  are  so  very  poor. 
Look  at  his  coat,  his  toil-stained  hand ; 
Pray,  make  him  clearly  understand 

His  place  is  at  the  door!" 

A  hireling,  in  the  place  of  prayer 
Said  roughly,  "You  come  down 

There  by  the  door.     We  do  not  care 
To  wait  on  every  clown. 

Our  church  is  fashionable.     You 

Cannot  afford  to  rent  a  pew, 
Therefore  come  quickly  down." 


California  and  Other  Poems  73 

A  glory  not  of  earth  o'erspread 

The  Stranger's  face.     His  eye 
A  pleading  glance  to  heaven  sped 

And  then  He  heaved  a  sigh. 
"This  is  my  Father's  house,"  He  said ; 
"I  came  in  search  of  heavenly  bread 

That  none  can  eat,  and  die." 

He  walked  into  the  nearest  pew 

Where  knelt  a  little  child 
With  upturned  eyes  of  heavenly  blue, 

And  modest  air  and  mild, 
And  it  was  something  strange  and  sweet 
To  see  before  the  mercy  seat 

The  two  souls,  undefiled. 

He  sang  as  if  the  choirs  of  heaven 

For  earth  made  holiday; 
He  prayed  as  if  to  Him  was  given 

The  universe  to  sway, 
And  in  His  mien  there  was  a  grace 
That  dignified  the  sacred  place 

As  doth  the  sun  the  day. 

"Come  unto  me,"  the  pastor  said, 

"And  I  will  give  you  rest." 
The  Stranger  calmly  raised  His  head 

And  that  vast  throng  addressed 
Before  the  pastor  found  a  word. 
He  held  the  fashionable  crowd, 

And  wooed  them  into  rest. 


74  California  and  Other  Poems 

''Come  unto  me,  you  weary  souls, 
Who  rest  not  day  or  night; 

Before  God's  judgment  o'er  you  rolls 
In  retributive  might. 

For  you,  to-day,  have  crucified 

The  Son  of  God,  and  have  denied 
Him  room,  within  your  sight. 

"Come  unto  me,  the  Lamb  of  God, 
Who  died  that  you  might  live 

And,  poor  and  weary,  life's  road  trod, 
Eternal  life  to  give. 

To  all  who  seek  His  heavenly  face, 

And  find  Him,  in  their  hearts,  a  place 
Wherein  to  work  and  live." 

They  knew  the  Master,  when  His  hand 
Was  raised  in  pleading  tone; 

He  wore  that  air  of  high  command 
That  rests  on  Kings  alone. 

He  was  their  New  Year's  guest  of  love 

To  woo  their  souls  to  things  above 
That  they  might  share  His  throne. 

They  thronged  around  to  worship  Him 
And  kneel  before  His  feet, 

But  in  the  singing  of  the  hymn 
He  vanished  from  His  seat ; 

While  high  o'er  human  voices  came 

Those  thrilling  words,  as  burning  flame 
Of  inspiration  sweet: 


California  and  Other  Poems  75 

"I  am  the  Christ  of  Galikr, 

The  poor  man's  friend  and  brother; 

You  do  the  evil  unto  me 
When  you  despise  another, 

A  Christian  is  a  man  whose  creed 

Is  sympathy  with  human  need, 
And  Love  ye  one  another." 


INDEPENDENCE  OF  CUBA. 

This  is  the  first  Independence  Day 

Poor  Cuba  ever  knew. 
Hurrah,  boys!  fire  the  rockets  high 

And  hold  a  grand  review. 
'Tis  better  to  die  'neath  a  foreign  sky 

Than  live  slaves,  at  home  forever. 
Sing  o'er  again,  "Remember  the  Maine" 

And  the  brave  lads  that  came  back  never. 

Hurrah  for  the  flag  with  its  stars  and  stripes 

That  floats  over  land  and  sea ! 
And  Hurrah  for  fair  Columbia, 

The  land  of  the  brave  and  free. 
The  cradle  of  manhood  strong  and  true, 

Triumphant  o'er  toil  and  pain ! 
And  Hurrah !  Hurrah !  for  the  soldier  lads 

Who  never  came  back  again! 

They  sleep  full  soundly  far  away ; 

Be  still;  not  quite  so  loud! 
They  cannot  share  in  your  holiday 

Who  died  without  shrift  or  shroud. 


76  California  and  Other  Poems 

And  some  have  died  of  famine, 

More  cruel  than  the  sword, 
While  our  garners  teemed  with  plenty 

And  our  coffers  overpoured. 

Boys,  be  still  one  moment,  pray, 

And  hear  this  touching  story 
About  a  hero  who  went  away 

In  search  of  fame  and  glory ; 
His  mother  knelt  for  him  in  prayer 

Before  their  cottage  door, 
And  his  sweetheart  sobbed,  "I  greatly  fear 

He  will  return  no  more." 

He  was  a  poor  man's  son,  but  brave 

And  rich  in  manly  beauty; 
He  died  his  country's  flag  to  save, 

A  martyr  to  his  duty. 
No  marble  slab  tells  where  he  lies, 

Inscribed  with  his  honored  name; 
There  is  no  ado  when  a  soldier  dies, 

The  leaders  reap  all  the  fame. 

They  found  above  his  lifeless  heart 

A  little  lock  of  hair, 
And  a  letter  from  his  mother 

Commending  to  God's  care 
Her  boy,  "God  guard  you,  Charlie; 

The  Glorious  Fourth  is  here ; 
And  we  have  placed  your  cannon 

Just  where  they  stood  last  year. 


California  and  Other  Poems  77 

"\Ve  have  hung  your  silken  banner 

Above  the  window-sill, 
But  father  looks  careworn, 

And  the  boys  look  graver  still: 
They  say,  'Our  Charlie  will  be  home 

When  next  the  Fourth  comes  'round; 
He  has  grand  fireworks  to-day 

In  Cuba,  I'll  be  bound.'  " 

Boys,  go  on  and  celebrate! 

I  cannot  tell  the  rest — 
About  his  sweetheart,  you  may  guess  it, 

But  silence  here  is  best. 
For  this  is  a  true  story 

That  happened  last  July, 
When  our  noble  boys  were  fighting 

To  conquer  or  to  die. 

I  cannot  help  conceiving 

How  happy  we  would  be 
If  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth 

Lived  on  in  harmony, 
Holding  on  high  the  banner 

The  Prince  of  Peace  has  given, 
Till  every  clime  and  country 

Became  an  earthly  heaven. 

Each  boy  may  be  a  hero 

In  peace  as  well  as  war, 
And  never  let  his  banner 

Of  honor  lose  a  star. 
Fighting  for  truth  and  virtue, 

In  life's  vast  battle  plain, 
Till  boys  in  blue  and  boys  in  gray 

Shall  Home  return  again. 


78  California  and  Other  Po'ems 


THE  AMULET. 

As  the  soldiers  rode  to  battle, 

One  lad  reined  up  his  steed, 
To  where  a  little  maiden 

Stood   wishing  him  "Godspeed." 
She  tried  to  speak,  but  sobs  alone 

Greeted  the  soldier  lad ; 
His  fortitude  called  up  a  smile, 

Although  his  heart  felt  sad. 

"  'Twill  be  a  fearful  battle,  Lenn, 

And  maybe — well,  you  see 
Before  it  is  all  over 

'Twill  be  eternity. 
But,  darling,  God  is  merciful; 

When  shot  and  shell,  like  rain, 
Are  flying  o'er  the  battlefield. 

Pray  I  return  again." 

She  took  the  bit  of  ribbon 

That  tied  her  golden  hair 
And  pinned  it  to  his  coat-sleeve 

With  tender,  loving  care. 
"It  is  a  small  love-token," 

She  lisped  'twixt  sob  and  sigh, 
"Enough  just  to  remind  you 

Of  Lenna's  constancy." 

At  Gettysburg,  the  other  day, 
A  soldier  rose,  in  camp, 

And  told  this  little  story 

Till  comrades'  eyes  grew  damp 


California  and  Other  Poems  79 

When  he  held  up  that  ribbon, 

Of  ragged,  faded  blue, 
For  forty  thousand  gallant  men 

To  take  a  fond  last  view. 


"I've  treasured  over  fifty  years 

This  precious  amulet. 
Speak  up!     Who  knows  if  Lenna, 

My  love,  is  living  yet?" 
"Lenna  Bond  of  Gettysburg 

Has  joined  the  grand  review 
Beyond  the  cold,  dark  river," 

Spake  up  her  kinsman  true. 

"Boys,  be  still,  let  me  explain," 

The  soldier  weeping  said. 
"On  Gettysburg's  fierce,  bloody  field, 

I  was  wounded — left   for  dead. 
My  memory  was  shattered — 

The  past  was  all  a  blank, 
Till  a  lad  in  gray  stood  over  me 

To  ascertain  my  rank. 

"  'Sergeant,'  he  said,  'lean  hard  on  me, 

You  yet  may  stem  the  tide/  " 
The  warrior  turned  his  head  away, 

His  blinding  tears  to  hide, 
And  when  he  found  his  voice  again, 

"Comrades,"  he  feebly  said, 
"I'll  tie  with  it,   forget-me-nots, 

To  grace  her  narrow  bed." 


8o  California  and  Other  Poems 


IN  MEMORIAM. 
EDWARD  LEO  McCoRMiCK. 

God  rest  our  noble  boy, 
Within  eternal  joy, 

Beyond  the  sun ; 
And  give  us  faith  to  say, 
God  gave  and  took  away 
Our  comfort  and  our  stay. 

"His  will  be  done." 

Eddie,  when  nights  are  long 
We'll  miss  thy  cheerful  song, 

Thy  gay  good-night. 
While  thou  in  endless  day, 
Art  gone  with  Christ  to  stay, 
Where  tears  are  wiped  away 

In  perfect  light. 

When  June  returns  again 
With  roses  in  her  train, 

In  deathless  bloom; 
'Mid  flowers  fresh  and  fair, 
Fanned  by  celestial  air, 
Free  from  all  pain  and  care, 

Thou  art  at  home. 

Tis  hard  to  say  "farewell," 
Harder  than  tongue  can  tell ; 

Never  to  see 

Thy  kind  and  gentle  face 
In  the  accustomed  place, 
Except  God  soothes  with  grace 

Our  agony. 


California  and  Other  Poems  81 

Earth  to  earth  and  clay  to  clay, 
In  holy  trust  we  lay  away 

Our  noble  boy ; 
Hoping  to  meet  once  more, 
Upon  a  brighter  shore, 
Our  darling  gone  before, 

To  endless  joy. 


ASTERS. 

How  beautiful!  how  beautiful! 

The  smile  the  asters  wear, 
\Yith   faces  turned  heavenward, 

Without  regret  or  fear: 
Brave  children  of  a  hardy  race, 

Lithe  tillers  of  the  soil, 
Their  sweet  simplicity  and  grace 

No  studied  art  can  spoil. 

Here  they  display  red,  white  and  blue, 

Dear  colors  of  our  nation ; 
There  purple,  blue  and  violet, 

To  please  the  whole  creation. 
They  are  the  children's  flowers, 

Abundant,  varied,  free, 
And  charming  autumn  asters 

Are  just  the  flowers  for  me. 

How  forcibly  they  teach  us 
That  every  thought  and  deed 

Is  graven  on  the  human  face 
That  he  who  runs  may  read 


82  California  and  Other  Poems 

The  native  color  of  each  soul 
Through  every  feigned  disguise, 

As  lovers  read  their  destiny 
In  love-illumined  eyes. 

Sweet  asters,  in  your  unity 

This  principle  I  read: 
Be  tolerant  and  loving, 

Whatever  be  your  creed; 
It  is  not  well  to  wrangle 

O'er  doctrines  dark  and  deep, 
While  Christian  faith  and  hope  and  love, 

In  sorrow,  fall  asleep. 

"  'Tis  well,"  you  say,  "that  we  to  all 

Be  long  suffering  and  kind, 
Lest  politics  and  prejudice 

Render  us  color-blind; 
And  let  us  be  in  everything 

Exactly  what  we  seem, 
For  Truth  is  no  delusion 

And  virtue  is  no  dream." 

For,  far  into  the  future 

Of  God's  Eternity, 
We  cast  our  seeds  of  promise, 

Whatever  they  may  be; 
God  grant  that,  like  the  asters 

When  spring  returns  again. 
We  may  be  bright  and  beautiful, 

And  death  to  us  be  gain. 


California  and  Other  Poems  83 


AUTUMN  WINDS. 

Oh,  Autumn  winds  that  cool  my  brow, 

You  bring  me  joy  and  pain, 
I  know  not  which  predominates 

Nor  can  I  well  explain ; 
You  come  from  scenes  of  childhood, 

So  very  far  away, 
From  the  meadows  and  the  wildwood, 

Where  we,  children,  loved  to  play. 

You  sweep  o'er  ruined  dwellings, 

O'er  nest  from  which  have  flown 
The  nestlings  of  the  summer, 

Dost  know   where  they  have  gone? 
Oh !   Autumn  winds  that  cool  my  brow, 

What  brings  this  fever  pain? 
You  cannot  soothe  my  anguish  now, 

Although  I  weep  in  vain. 

You  are  fickle,  Winds  of  Autumn, 

Capricious,  proud  and  vain, 
Speed  fast  and  leave  me  calmly 

To  battle  with  my  pain. 
You  know  the  dear  old  oak  tree 

Beside  the  homestead  door, 
Where  you  whirled  your  golden  scepter 

In  a  kingdom  now  no  more. 

*        *        * 
I  will  away  to  the  wildwood 

Far   from   the   city's   strife, 
And  dream  again  of  the  golden  days 

At  the  golden  gate  of  life; 


84  California  and  Other  Poems 

When  the  merry  laugh  of  childhood 
Came    floating  on   the   breeze, 

As  we  strung  our  coral  necklets, 
From  the  tall,  red  rowan  trees. 

Harken !    Oh,  Winds  of   Autumn, 

Before  you  pass  away, 
Is  there  no  summer  city 

Where  little  children  play, 
With  golden  streets,  and  fruit  trees, 

And  rivers  flowing  by, 
Where  healing  comes  on  every  breeze 

And  loved  ones  never  die? 

I   am   so   weary   of  earth's   strife, 

Its  turmoil,  sin  and  sorrow, 
They  trouble  you  not  in  your  onward  life 

To  .a   colder,   more   dread  to-morrow ; 
You  lift  up  the  pall  of  the  pauper's  rags, 

And  laugh  thro'  the  broken  door, 
Where  famine  and  death  are  creeping 

Over  the  rotten  floor ! 

"Oh,  No!  No!"  roared  back  the  Wind, 

"Old  friend,  why  wrong  me  so? 
It  is  I  who  leave  good  fruit  behind 

And  show  where  the  pumpkins  grow. 
I  am  a  messenger  of  good, 

But  greed  rules  human  hearts. 
There  is  plenty  of  food  and  to  spare  for  all 

In  the  world's  o'erflowing  marts. 


California  and  Other  Poems  85 

"I  would  gladly  scatter  tin-  yellow  gold 

Could  I  hold  it  in  my  hand, 
Like  the  golden  grain  and  fruit  I  throw 

In  showers  o'er  the  land; 
I  am  only  a  type  of  a  spirit  fair 

That  touches  the  human  heart, 
With  the  love  of  God,  and  tells  despair, 

And  sorrow,  and  sin,  depart." 

September,  1899. 


LOVE. 

Love  is  the  soft  wind  of  the  south, 
Lulling  to  sleep  the  restless  wave; 

The  last  fond  kiss  of  pallid  mouth 
This  side  the  portal  of  the  grave. 

Love  is  the  essence  of  the  rose, 

Soaring,   soaring   away   to   greet    the   sun, 
Diffusing  sweetness  as  it  goes, 

Until  its  earthly  race  is  run. 

Love  is  the  talisman  whose  hold 
Encircles  Fate  with  kindly  hand, 

Turning  the  dross  of  life  to  gold, 
And  beautifying  desert  land. 

Love  ever  seeks  its  objects  good 
Though  in  itself  is  its  completion; 

God-like  it  owns  not  claims  of  blood 
But  glorifies  its  own  creation. 


86  California  and  Other  Poems 


NEW  YEAR— 1901. 

You   are   welcome,  you   bright  little   fellow ! 

Come  in,  take  a  seat  by  the  fire; 
We  will  give  you  a  warm  reception 

Because  of  our  love  to  your  sire. 

You    are   young   and   know   little,    or   nothing, 

Of  the  curious  trend  of  the  age. 
Events  that  have  lately  transpired 

Leave  dark  blots  on  History's  page. 

For  instance,  the  war  in  the  Transvaal, 

So  cruel,  revengeful,  unjust. 
Why   not   leave  the   poor   Boers   to  their   farms, 

Their  mines   and   their  handful   of   dust? 

And  then,  the  Chinese,  Oh,  the  Pagans! 
What  cruelties  have  they  not  wrought? 
Why  not  leave  them  to  Father  Confucius? 
They  shamed  the  good  precepts  he  taught. 

Oh  me !  there  are  heathens  around  us — 
In   London,   New   York  and   right  here; 

The  outcasts   of  civilization, 

Who  have  long  since  forgotten  Christ's  prayer. 

It   seems  like  gnat-straining  to  blame  them — 
Fleeced  lambs  to  the  slaughter  house  come. 

Before   seeking   poor   lost   souls   in   China 
Why  not  sweep  our  doorsteps  at  home? 


California  and  Other  Poems  87 

America   widens   her   borders 

But  harbors  the   "Army  Canteen." 
Alas!  for  the  Garden  of  Eden 

When  snakes  crawl  the  flowers  between! 

You  are  green,  little  ivy-crowned  Monarch 
Of  the  year  Nineteen  Hundred  and  One. 
And  I  am  a  garrulous  person 

Who  wants  to  know,  ''What's  to  be  done?" 

Then  up  spoke  the  royal  young  Monarch, 

With   the  firm   resolve  of  a  man: 
"I  have  pledged  my  allegiance  to  heaven 

And  will  set  matters  right,  if  I  can. 

"No  bribery,   no  frauds   or   corruption 

In    government    I    shall   allow. 
It  is  selling  one's   birthright  for  pottage 

And  breaking  a  most  solemn  vow. 

"I  will  teach  coming  ages  this  lesson 
As  older  I  grow  and  more  strong, 

That  humanity  must  bend  the  fetters 
That  bind  it  to  anything  wrong. 

"For  the  Kingdom  of  God  is  within  us, 

And  each  man  a  priest  and  a  king 
Ordained   for  the  service  of  heaven 

The  promised  millennium  to  bring. 

"And  soon,  very  soon,  all  shall  learn 

That  love  is  the  keynote  to  peace. 
Their    swords    shall    be   beaten    to    plowshares 

And  the  captives  shall  all  have  release. 


88  California  and  Other  Poems 

<4I   will   wake  up   the  indolent   churches 

And    a   scourge    of   small    cords   I   shall   make, 

Of  the  tatters  of  widows  and  orphans 
Whose  ermine  the  hypocrites  take. 

"I  will  slay  all  the  Trust  corporations 

Established  to  plunder  the  poor, 
That    the    Golden    Age,    laden    with    plenty 

May  enter  the  cottager's  door. 

"I  will  shelter  the  weak  and  innocent 
That  Virtue  may  lift  up  her  head, 

Exalting  a  purified   Nation, 

Where  the   Spirit  of  God  has  been  shed. 

"I   will  break  down   the   wall   or  partition 
That  severs  the  rich  from  the  poor. 

For    in    Christ    all    God's    children    are    brothers 
And  enter  their  home  through  one  door. 

"I  will  shelter  the  weak  and  innocent 

By   public    opinion,    so    strong 
That  our  daughters  may  grow  as  the  lilies 

Whose  purity   shieldeth   from   wrong. 

"And  then  I  will  go  to  my  fathers 
And  sleep  the  calm  sleep  of  the  just, 

Till   eternity  hands   in   the  record 
To  God,  in  whom  only  we  trust." 


California  and  Other  Poems  89 

THE  LOST  SMILE. 
(A  German  Legend.) 

A  little  maid  awoke  one  day 

And  found  her  bright  smile  gone. 
"I'll  hunt  it  up,"  she  bravely  said, 

"My    playfellows    among." 
So  she  went  and  asked  the  wind 

That  frolicked  with  her  hair, 
"Pray  tell  me  wind,  if  you  have  seen 

My  lost  smile  anywhere." 

The  wind  roared  loudly  to  the  child : 

"Not  I,  not  I,  indeed; 
'Tis  strange  how  people  lose  their  smiles, 

I  think  they  should  take  heed. 
But  I  may  hunt  it  up  for  you, 

I    travel   everywhere ; 
And  if  you  get  it  back  again 

Be  very  careful,  dear." 

She  wandered  by  the  babbling  brook 

Where  little  minnows  run. 
"Pray  tell  me  brooklet,  if  you  stole 

Away  my  smile,  for  fun?" 
"Xot  I,  indeed,"  the  brooklet  said, 

"Your  smile  I  do  not  need ; 
The  sun  brings  thousands  every  day 

My  sparkling  mood  to  feed." 

"Bright  sun,"  she  said,  with  wistful  glance, 

"You  look  so  high  and  wise, 
Kindly  tell  me  if  you  stole 

My  smile  for  a  surprise." 


90  California  and  Other  Poems 

"Sweet  little   maiden,"  said  the  sun, 
''The  raindrops  form  my  bow 

Of  smiles  so   bright  and  beautiful ; 
They  are  all  I  want,  you  know." 

"Oh  dear  me,"  cried  the  little  one, 

Shaking  her  weary  head, 
"I  will  not  find  it,  I'm  afraid, 

Before  I  go  to  bed. 
But  I  must  search  and  search,  and  search, 

The  wide  world  up  and  down 
For  when  we  lose  our  sunny  smile 

We  are  very  apt  to  frown." 

She  entered  then  a  cottage  door 

Where  lay  a  little  child 
Asleep  upon  the  lap  of  Death, 

And  lo !  the  infant  smiled ! 
"Ah,  cruel  Death,"  she  cried  in  tears, 

"You  are  the  thief  I  know, 
Who  robs  the  living  of  their  smiles 

To  deck  your  sleepers  so." 

To  this  Death  answered  deep  and  low : 

"My  children  weep  no  more, 
And  therefore  look  more  beautiful 

And  smiling  than  before; 
And  from  earth's  fairest  gardens 

The  choicest  buds  we  take, 
For  sleeping  ones  to  play  with 

Whenever  they  awake." 


California  and  Other  Poems  91 

Beside  a  stream  old  Mother  Time 

Wove   locks  of  silver  hair. 
"It   may  be,"  thought  the   child, 

"She  weaves  my  bright  smile  over  there." 
And  then  she  timidly  drew  near, 

And  said,  "Dear  Mother  Time, 
Somebody  stole  my  sunny  smile, 

Can  you  detect  the  crime?" 

"I  cannot,  child,"  said  Mother  Time, 

"My  work,  you  see,  is  slow, 
I    keep    Forgetfulness   and    Hope 

My  errands  all  to  do; 
But  my  good  neighbor  Wisdom 

May  guide  you  on  the  way 
To  where  your  sunny   smile   is   gone. 
I  wish  you  now,  good  day." 

"Dear  Wisdom,  can  you  help  me  find 

A  treasure  I  have  lost? 
I've  heard  that  you  are  always  kind, 

When  people  need  you  most." 
But  Wisdom  gravely  answered, 

"Dear  child,   I  cannot  do 
Aught  in  the   way  of  finding  smiles: 

I  teach  folks  what  to  know." 

"I  wish  I   knew,"  the  child  exclaimed. 

"Experience  teaches  best, 
I    will   arise   and   go   to   her — 

The  sun  sinks  in  the  west." 


92  California  and  Other  Poems 

Experience    looked    up    with   a    smile, 
"I  live   to  make  folks  wise," 

She   said,  "but  very  few  indeed, 
Behold  things  with  my  eyes. 

"Go  home  and  you  will  find  a  smile 

Awaiting  your  return, 
It  is  no  use  when  things  are  lost 

To  make  ado  and  mourn. 
'Tis  better  to  keep  constant  watch 

Than  run  ten  miles  around 
In  search  of  what  our  folly  lost 

That  never  can  be  found." 

So  home  again  the  maiden  ran, 

Weary,  worn  and  sad, 
And  for  the  friends  who  greeted  her 

No  sunny  smile  she  had. 
"She  was  so  bright  and  beautiful." 

She  heard  the  people  say, 
"Whatever  has  come  over  her? 

She  must  have  gone  astray." 


BETWEEN. 

(For  Decoration  Day.) 

I  stood  'neath  the  star-gemmed  heavens 
Beside  the  graves  of  my  dead. 

Anguish  too  deep  for  weeping, 
Its  gloom  o'er  my  spirit  shed. 


California  and  Other  Poems  93 

I  cried  to  the  depths  of  azure 

The  burden  of  my  pain : — 
"Great  soul  of  this  awful  vastness, 

Shall  my  loved  ones  live  again?" 

Silence  above  and  beneath  me. 

Only  the  moaning  wind 
Rustling  the  cypress  branches 

With  touches  soft  and  kind. 
The  flowers  glanced  up  in  pity, 

Mcthought,  in  the  moonlight  cold, 
Like  sympathizing  children 

When  sorrowful  tales  are  told. 

I  Jut  from  above  no  answer, 

And  from  below  no  sound. 
I  stood  in  the  awful  silence — 

Infinity  around. 
"I  loved  them,"  I  moaned  in  sorrow. 

"Shall  I  never,  never  more 
Behold  them  some  fair  morrow 

On  this,  or  some  other  shore?" 

"You  loved  them,"  a  soft  voice  echoed 

The  silences  between ; 
"Love  keepeth  its  own  forever, 

The  unseen   within  the  seen. 
Enshrined  in  the  hearts  of  the  living 

The  loved  ones  forever  dwell, 
And  the  Heart  of  the  Great  Eternal 

Alone  can  Death's  secret  tell." 


94  California  and  Other  Poems 


THE  LAST  INVESTMENT. 

(A  Poem  for  Labor  Day.) 

Four  little  bits  of  babies, 

The  oldest  scarcely  five, 
Were  huddled  in  a  corner, 

More  dead  than  they  were  alive. 
The  mother,  pale  and  weary, 

Sat   brooding  o'er   the   case, 
With  hunger  gnawing  at  her  heart, 

And    tears   upon   her   face. 

A  step  upon  the  threshold, 

Averts  her  drooping  eyes ; 
"What  news  of   work,   my  husband?" 

And    slowly    he    replies, 
"It  is  the  same  all  over; 

No  work,  no  hope,  no  trust; 
I've  made  my  last  investment; 

The  babes  must  have  a  crust." 

They  gazed  on  one  another : 

Intelligent   surprise 
Explained   to   each   the   purpose, 

Told  only  by  the  eyes. 
The  water  rent  W7as  called  for, 

The  gas  bill  overdue, 
The  house  rent;  well,  God  pity! 

Whatever  would  they  do? 


California  and  Other  Poems  95 

The   strong   man,   in   his   manhood, 

Bowed  down  his  head,  and  wept ! 
"Tis  not  my  fault,  my  darling, 

That  I've  not  better  kept 
The  vow  I  made  to  cherish"- 

Then   starting-  to  his   feet: 
"The  children  will  not  hunger 

Upon  the  golden  street." 

Next  day  a  neighbor  found  them, 

Beyond  the  reach  of  woe ; 
Where  'mid  the  trees  of  healing, 

The   living  waters   flow. 
The  gas  bill   counted   higher, 

But  it  would  have  to  wait; 
And  if  good  times  are  coming, 

To  some  they  come  too  late. 


LINES  ON  AN  IRISH  DAISY. 

Stranger,  though  to  you  it  seemeth 

But  a  little  faded  thing, 
I  can  love  it  for  the  memories 

That  around  it  fondly  cling. 
I    can   kiss   its  drooping  eyelids, 

Bathe  with  tears  its  eye  of  gold ; 
Do  you  wonder  at  my  weeping? 

Wait  until   my  tale  is  told. 


96  California  and  Other  Poems 

In    fair   fields   beyond   the   ocean 

I   have   seen  the  daisies  grow, 
Without  any  deep  emotion 

I  have  chained  them  in  a  row, 
Round  the  fair  neck  of  my  sister, 

Round   my  little  brother's  hat, 
In  my  native  sunny  meadows 

I  have  toyed  with  flowers  like  that. 


Mother,  in  our  twilight  rambles, 

Always  bore  them  in  her  hand ; 
Father   gathered   us   a   bouquet 

When  in  spring  he  ploughed  the  land. 
Sister  Anna  culled  this  flower 

From  the  green  sod  where  it  grew, 
With  its  modest  face  uplifted, 

Keeping  heaven  still  in  view. 

Thus  across  the  wide,  wild  ocean, 

On  a  wintry  voyage  come, 
It  has  brought  to  me  a  message 

From  the  loving  ones  at  home. 
Oh !  what  tender  thoughts  awaken, 

As  I  hold  it  in  my  hand ; 
Thoughts    of   home   and   happy   childhood, 

Thoughts  of  God  and  fatherland. 


r 


RETURN    CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT 

TO—  ^    202  Main  Library 

LOAN  PERIOD  1 
HOME  USE 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 

Renewals  and  Recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  the  due  date. 

Books  may  be  Renewed  by  calling        642-3405 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


FORM  NO.  DD6 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
BERKELEY,  CA  94720 

®s 


YB  I  1 883 


U.  C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


111 


111 


CDMbD373E7 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


